The MySpace Admirer
by adventurefilled
Summary: Someone starts anonymously complimenting Rachel over MySpace. Rachel/Quinn
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Reviving this super old account to (attempt to) fill a prompt at the rq_meme on livejournal. It's been a really, really long time, so I hope this doesn't suck.**

**Also, there wasn't a single way of writing Myspace that didn't piss me off when I was reading this back, so I've just written it how they do on the website, hopefully it isn't jarring or anything.**

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_This is awesome! :) You're a really good singer._

Rachel stared uncomprehendingly at the screen, blinked and rubbed her eyes.

_This is awesome! :) You're a really good singer._

The comment on her MySpace video was still the same - but this didn't make any sense. Sure, _she_ knew she was a really good singer (actually, she thought she was rather more than just "really good" but that was a point for another time), and she quite suspected that her performance in said video was awesome (although that probably wasn't the word she'd have chosen), but for someone else to think it? Well that wasn't entirely new either, but someone commenting on her MySpace account saying as such was unprecedented.

What made matters infinitely worse was that the comment had been posted anonymously. How was she supposed to thank the commenter properly (and show her appreciation by dedicating a video to them) if she didn't know who had posted it?

Her mind went first to Jacob Ben Israel, but she was pretty sure he'd been permanently banned from MySpace after he sent her that picture she'd managed to hypnotise herself into forgetting. Besides, anonymity wasn't really his style - he was less a "watch you from afar" type of stalker, and more a "prostrate himself at your feet and give detailed accounts of his sexual fantasies involving you" type.

So who was it then, that wanted her to know she was awesome? It could always be Finn; although they had broken up the month before, after the less than shocking revelation that they really worked better as friends than boyfriend and girlfriend, it was entirely possible he'd forgotten, or simply been disappointed by the noted absence of girls who were willing to date him and decided to attempt to woo her again. That didn't explain why he'd chosen to remain anonymous, but then, he once spent a week praying to a grilled cheese sandwich, so who knew what went on in his head.

She closed her laptop decisively - she would have to investigate the matter further at school.

As she went about her evening routine she entertained vague fantasies of Jesse St James getting down on his knees and begging for her forgiveness, his anonymous comments his own way of showing his regret (this was a variation on a frequent fantasy, which always ended with him being haunted forever by the souls of baby chickens who would torment him to his grave). Another fantasy involved Puck shirtless, and telling her she was a really good... singer (the pause was for lots of suggestive looks and eyebrow raising, which would actually be sort of creepy, and besides, he was with Quinn now).

When she was almost asleep, and her imagination was no longer making sense, she had vague images of a pretty blonde girl telling her she was awesome, and a really good singer. If she didn't know any better, and if she was more conscious, she might have said it looked like Britney Spears. Or Brittany Piers. Or Quinn Fabray (but then, she was with Puck now).

xxx

As always, she awoke the next morning with renewed determination. Top of the "Rachel Berry: Official Goals and Targets List (2010-2011)" was to discover the identity of the anonymous commenter. Sure, it was just one comment, which in the grand scheme of things may have meant very little to the poster, but Rachel Berry was not about to let the author of her very first (positive) MySpace comment go without a performance dedicated to them, and possibly a signed photo.

She cornered Finn by his locker just before first period, "Did you leave an anonymous comment on my most recent MySpace video telling me that I'm awesome and a really good singer?" she said, before he'd had time to notice her, let alone say hello.

"What?" he blinked, distracted from trying to remember if the Shakespeare book he'd just found in his locker was for English or his American history class.

"Did you leave an anonymous comment on my most recent MySpace video telling me that I'm awesome and a really good singer?" she repeated at approximately twice the speed (she dated him _all _summer? Really?).

"You have a MySpace account?"

Rachel rolled her eyes, "Yes, Finn, and so do you, because I created one for you while we were dating so you could give me your thoughts on my videos. So, was it you who left a comment on my most recent - "

"Woah." he held up his hands in surrender, "It wasn't me, Rach. I'm still trying to figure out how to stop my Facebook page saying I'm interested in men. I don't know how Puck keeps guessing my password..."

"He keeps guessing it because your password is always some variation on "Finn likes football". Now if you'll excuse me, I have to find out who did leave the comment."

Finn watched as Rachel strode purposefully off - he'd dated that bucket of crazy _all summer_? Really?

xxx

There were many things Rachel Berry prided herself on, and one of them was her ability to read people. As such, she was certain that if she were to confront suspects with _evidence_ of the comment, she'd surely see some kind of recognition in their eyes - and then she'd have found the culprit! The fan, she corrected herself. She'd have found the fan.

So at lunchtime she made her way to the school library, intent on taking a screenshot of the comment and enlarging it, so it would be easy for people to see - particularly if she presented it to, for example, the entire Glee club. Logging into her MySpace account however, she was surprised to be told "You have 1 new comment". Typically, this meant the Cheerios had been bored and had decided to give her creative new ways she might consider killing herself, but today was not one of those days.

_This is SO good! You should do another song from The Lion King :)_

The comment was on one of her older videos, a particularly heartfelt rendition of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight". The comment was, again, anonymous, but Rachel was nothing if not gracious to her fans, and so she replied:

_May I ask who is commenting? Also, I have done another song from 'The Lion King', which is linked below, but feel free to make any suggestions!_

She took a screenshot of the new comment as well as the old, and printed them both, pleased by this extra ammunition with which she had to discover the identity of her new found fan.

xxx

She entered Glee club with an air of determination, but that was nothing new, so no one paid her much attention. Mercedes and Kurt were discussing the pros and cons of imitating a Lady Gaga dress, Santana was explaining to Brittany why Artie couldn't "just stand up", Puck was complaining to Mike and Finn about some "lame Disney movie" Quinn wanted to watch, and Mr Schue was trying, and failing, to get their attention.

"Mr Schuester, fellow Glee club members, may I have your attention please?" With some muttering and eye rolls, the room fell silent.

Will smiled and clapped his hands, Rachel was definitely useful for uniting the rest of the club in shared irritation, not to mention they'd do almost anything to shut her up. "Thanks, Rachel. Now today I want us to - "

"Actually I'm afraid I have more pressing matters to attend to, Mr Schuester."

Will looked put out, but Rachel continued unabashedly before he could say anything. "Now, as you can see from these pictures - " she held up her two printed copies of the mysterious comments, "Someone has left two anonymous comments on my MySpace videos, and as I'm assuming the person behind them is a Glee club member, I'd like them to step forward now so I can thank them properly."

A wall of blank faces stared back at her.

"You really care _that_ much about two stupid comments?" Puck asked.

"No offence Rachel," Kurt said, inspecting his nails, "But someone is probably just setting you up to make fun of you. A bored Cheerio who hates you, perhaps."

Santana rolled her eyes indignantly as everyone turned to look at her, "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. What would I do after that? Reveal I secretly hated her videos? Yeah - that would be shocking. I actually think we should just all be thankful that computer access for the disabled has advanced as far as it has, because whoever likes Berry's videos is obviously blind and deaf."

Rachel stared at the Glee club glumly - no one was going to admit to it, and while conducting individual interrogations of each member _was_ an option, her spare time was scant as it was. No, the most practical option was clearly to wait for the anonymous MySpace commenter to post more, gather information on their writing style and contrast that to a sample of each of the Glee members. Until then, she would observe quietly to see if anyone was acting suspiciously.

xxx

After Rachel had corrected a few of Mr Schue's flawed ideas, performed a solo, and given an inspiring speech on the importance of keeping up to date on current events (so the emotion you feel for victims of war and poverty might be conveyed in your performances), the "quiet observation" plan was all but forgotten. She didn't have long to regret her own inability to simply watch _anything_ however, because by the time she got home, engaged in small talk with her fathers, ate a light snack and googled her own name, a new comment had been posted.

_Not my favourite song from the movie, but you did this really well. You should do one of the songs from Hunchback of Notre Dame._

The comment was on the Lion King song Rachel had given a link to earlier in the day, although they hadn't bothered to reply to her own comment.

She replied quickly, _I never have before, but as you asked, I could postpone the third rendition of "Sixteen Going On Seventeen" I had planned for tonight, and choose something from that instead._

As it turned out "God Help the Outcasts" had very relatable lyrics, and Rachel considered suggesting it to Mr Schuester as a potential candidate for sectionals, but he was notoriously unreceptive to anything which didn't include awkward rapping.

The next comment was posted only a few minutes after she uploaded the video, and Rachel allowed herself time to read and reply, even if it would make her nearly six minutes late for bed.

_This is great, you're so talented!_

_May I ask again who you are?_ she replied, _Also, the songs below better show off my vocal range, if you'd like to see._

She gave a few links, and went to bed with a smile on her face.

xxx

The next day was Saturday, which meant Rachel's schedule was as full as it could get while still allowing time for bathroom breaks (she'd only made that mistake once). She had to go grocery shopping with her fathers, then to the hospital to read to sick children (she used to read to the elderly, but there were too many complaints), followed by extracurricular reading and research, catching up on the letters of complaint she needed to write, singing lessons (to keep her vocal chords in good working order, she reminded her teacher regularly, not because she needed to _learn to sing_), tap dancing class, volunteer work at the animal hospice, and finally home to watch cartoons.

Unlike a normal Saturday however, she managed to find time to check MySpace in between, and occasionally (to the annoyance of her tap dance teacher) in the middle of, activities. The anonymous fan left her several comments throughout the day, all of which Rachel replied to, giving links or recommendations. The commenter never replied to her directly, but there was always a new post on the video she had suggested, or another similar to it. Nor did they answer any of Rachel's questions - which ranged from the subtle ("Would you say this is your favourite type of music?") to the desperate ("I _must_ know who you are, please reveal yourself instantly.") and it almost felt as though she were chasing her elusive fan through her own back catalogue.

The next day proved much of the same, although the commenter replied much less - leading Rachel into wild speculation about what could be keeping them occupied on a Sunday (Church? Or was some kind of sport played today that she wasn't aware of?). However, it seemed the more they posted, the less Rachel wanted to know their identity. After all, it was entirely possible that Kurt was right, that someone was just setting her up to make fun of her...and if that was true, well, she didn't really want to find out. She'd spent years putting all that work into the videos, and no one had ever recognised it, the only people who even acknowledged them only mocked her mercilessly - and now someone was finally, _finally_ interested. They thought she was talented, they wanted to see other performances, they wanted her opinion. And if that was a lie...well, Rachel didn't want to know.

So the weekend came and went, and as the days wore on, Rachel continued to answer the commenter with enthusiasm, giving suggestions and links to the best of her ability (as if Rachel Berry would do less), but she asked fewer and fewer questions of her own. She was used to spending her lunchtimes in the choir room, practising for Glee or just playing for fun, but she found herself cutting that time short to go to the library and check her profile, avoiding the disapproving glares of the librarian, who wouldn't condone the use of school computers for such irresponsible activities. The commenter typically replied over the lunch period as well, and she found herself staring around the library at the other students, her heart sinking if she spotted any Cheerios or football players.

xxx

It was Wednesday night, and if she was honest Rachel hadn't been entirely happy with her newest video - it was a little rushed, she'd felt, and she'd been tired. Although she was reluctant to post a sub-par performance, it was getting late, and she still had to renew her domain name before bed. So, when she checked MySpace for the last time before going to sleep, she wouldn't have been surprised if the commenter had foregone her newest video for an older one. But nevertheless, the reply was there, and the only one since the first with no questions or suggestions.

_I wish I could tell you to your face, you're really beautiful._

And then there was no doubt, Rachel had to know who it was.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews etc., I forgot that this is actually super fun. This took longer than expected, and it's shorter than expected because I had second chapter blues (that's totally a thing), hope you enjoy it anyway :).**

**Also, woohoo new Glee episode tonight!  
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Rachel slammed her hands down on the desk and glared. "I've come to a conclusion." she said, with something resembling an evil smile.

For his part, Finn looked utterly terrified. "Uh...what...conclusion is that?" he asked. With her nose three inches from his, Rachel could smell the onion rings he'd eaten with lunch on his breath.

"My secret MySpace admirer couldn't possibly be you." she said, and he sighed with relief - the last time Rachel had reached a conclusion it had ended horrifically.

"Oh good, I thought you were gonna make me do karaoke again."

Rachel huffed indignantly, "What's wrong with karaoke? When we went I was given a standing ovation."

"Does it count as a standing ovation if everyone was already standing up?"

Rachel shook her head - she couldn't allow herself to get distracted, especially because the more he spoke the more she could smell the bacon cheeseburger he'd also eaten with lunch, which was disgusting. "Nevertheless, the spelling and grammar of my MySpace fan is far too good for you to be the person behind it, and as such, I've come to enlist your help."

Finn went back to look terrified.

xxx

He stared at the clock. Was it going more slowly? Time was definitely going more slowly. He looked down at his biology text book, why did they make this stuff so boring? He didn't care about the structure of a cell, or how plants grow, or how babies are made. Well, he kind of had _some_ interest in that, but definitely not the baby making side of it. He cursed himself for letting Rachel talk him into to this stupid task (or "secret mission the nature of which is not to be shared with anyone" as she'd called it). At least he got a Pizza Hut coupon out of it. He grinned at his text book, yeah, Pizza Hut was awesome. They probably had the best stuffed crust pizzas, he reasoned, unless you counted that one tiny restaurant near his grandma's house, but -

His phone buzzed with a message from Rachel. _Don't get distracted._ it read, _Concentrate!_. He sighed, staring around the library, Rachel was kind of scarily psychic sometimes.

Apparently Rachel's grand plan for catching her secret MySpace stalker or whatever was to watch and see if anyone in the school library logged on to MySpace. If anyone did, they could be considered a suspect in this super weird online dating thing Rachel had going on, and she could like, compare the times of posting to when the person was in the library, or something (he kind of thought Rachel needed to get out more). _But_ (at this point of explaining the plan to him Rachel had thrown her arms up in a look of totally over the top exasperation) she'd been on stake out duty in the library for three days now, and no comment had appeared during the lunch period. She could only assume they were being scared off by her presence, which is why Finn had to be the lookout and in exchange he could have this Pizza Hut voucher her repulsive Uncle Gary had given her.

Someone sat down next to him, and an unfamiliar female voice said, "Hey, Finn. I don't normally see you in here."

He turned and smiled at the Cheerio to his right, "I'm kind of doing a favour for a friend, it's Amy, right?"

She grinned, brushing her hair out of her eyes, "Yeah, I'm surprised you remember."

He shrugged, "How you doing anyway?"

"I'm actually _really_ happy, you wanna know why?"

"Uh...sure."

"Well, I just got bumped up to fourth from top in the Cheerios pyramid, _and_," at this point she ran a finger down his forearm and grinned, "I totally found out that you're finally single."

He smiled surprised, "Wow, thanks."

"So what do you say, you wanna go out some time?"

"Yeah, sure - hey, do you like Pizza Hut?"

xxx

Rachel stared murderously at the computer screen. Trust Finn to get distracted by a pretty girl when he was _supposed_ to be working, and sure enough, a comment from the fan had been posted while he'd been ogling - how did that girl manage to have so much cleavage on show in a Cheerios uniform anyway?

Just as she was about to log off and go to Glee club, a notification popped up informing her she had a new comment. She stared around the empty library - school had only just finished, there was no way her admirer could be at home, so where were they posting from? Baffled, but running the risk of being late for Glee, she resolved to read it later, and to investigate whether there were other computers available for student use in the building (which would actually be very useful for the days when the football team got bored and came to see how many books they could lift at once, in some kind of bizarre contest of manliness and stupidity).

Entering the choir room and taking a seat, she stared around, as if she could determine the identity of her number one fan by sight alone. Mercedes and Quinn were engrossed in their Blackberrys, Mike and Tina were practising some dance moves, and Finn was excitedly telling Puck, Santana and Brittany about the idiot cheerleader he'd allowed to distract him at lunch.

"Wait," Puck was saying, "You're going out with Amy Piper? Didn't you used to be like, best friends with her Santana?"

Santana nodded, "Yeah, we met in juvie. She's totally out of her mind, but we drifted apart when her Insane Clown Posse obsession started getting out of control."

Puck grinned, "Yeah, you know the reason Coach Tanaka left last year was because she punched him out?"

Finn looked alarmed, but Santana laughed loudly, "That was the funniest thing I've ever seen."

"I squished a fly once." Brittany frowned.

"I know, Britt, then we had a funeral for it."

"I'm just saying, I can be tough too."

xxx

Rachel settled in front of her laptop with a glass of water, but lacking the snack she'd intended to make. Really, why was it so hard for her fathers to understand that in order to have a healthy diet she required ethically grown and locally sourced produce? She did appreciate the difficulties involved in acquiring _truly_ locally sourced items, since that slaughter house replaced the organic food store, but nevertheless if they truly -

The MySpace comment. In between convincing Mr Schue that Tupac was not an appropriate artist to cover at sectionals, and lecturing her fathers on the various ways in which plants can be mistreated, she'd completely forgotten that she hadn't yet read the newest comment. She logged on quickly, wondering which video had received attention today - perhaps the Sound of Music montage she'd done last month, that had been particularly inspiring, she thought.

To her surprise though, the comment wasn't on a video at all - but instead on her profile picture (a shot from regionals last year).

_You looked so pretty that night. And instead of bribing Finn to play Nancy Drew, why not just add me on MSN?_

It was followed by an email address. Rachel wasn't aware it was possible to add an instant messaging contact as quickly as she did then, but as the request was accepted very quickly, she could only assume they had been waiting for her to do so.

** Rachel**: Hello, who are you?  
**MySpace Fan**: It's a secret ;). You know, I was going to register with the email "rachelberrysno1fan" but it was already taken...

At her computer screen Rachel blushed.

**Rachel**: Well, we were all young once. Anyway, did you like my newest video?  
**MySpace Fan**: Loved it, you look really awesome in that shirt :)

As if it were possible, she blushed even harder.

It was surprisingly easy to talk to someone whose name you didn't know, especially when they seemed to think you were, in their words, _really awesome_, and Rachel found them discussing everything from the best place to shop for sweater vests (there was no good place in the world to shop for sweater vests, she was informed) to her break up with Finn ("I can't believe you dated him ALL summer"). When her dads called her down for dinner, she was surprised to see how much time had passed, and found herself wondering when the last time was that she'd talked to someone for so long. Possibly never, she realised, a little sadly.

Going back upstairs after eating, she was both horrified, and slightly disappointed, at how behind she was on her evening schedule, and was forced to tell her new-found friend that she'd be unable to continue their conversation.

xxx

She went into school the next day with a spring in her step (although it probably wasn't immediately obvious as differing from the usual Rachel Berry pep to most onlookers). Nearing her locker, she nearly bumped into Quinn, who was wearing her best head bitch in charge expression.

"What are you so cheerful about?"

Rachel gave a mysterious smile that she'd practised in the mirror that morning. "Nothing, I'm simply excited for the day of educational challenges that await us."

Quinn shook her head, "You're really weird." she paused, "I guess I'll see you in Glee."

Then she was gone, leaving Rachel to walk the few short steps to her locker. Opening it, she was surprised to find a teddy bear holding a heart with "I'm Sorry" written on it. Attached to its forehead with a thumb tack was a note that read, "Sorry for making you "horrifically late for your evening schedule", hope this nauseatingly cute bear makes up for it."

After that, there was enough Rachel Berry pep for everyone to notice.

xxx

When she arrived home from school, she logged into MSN as quickly as possible, and was pleased to see her mysterious, bear-giving fan was online.

**Rachel**: Thank you for the teddy bear, the gesture was, in your words, nauseatingly cute.  
**MySpace Fan**: You're Rachel Berry, you like nauseatingly cute. Actually, you ARE nauseatingly cute.  
**Rachel**: I did think the thumb tack through his head was violence which could have been avoided however.  
**MySpace Fan**: See? Nauseating.  
**Rachel**: Thank you...I think. You do realise that my determination knows no bounds, and I WILL find out who you are?  
**MySpace Fan**: How are you going to do that? Set up some kind of elaborate, Scooby Doo style trap?  
**Rachel**: No, don't be ridiculous.

But in her bedroom, Rachel was smiling very, very widely.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Still not sure I'm totally happy with this chapter, but I'd already promised this to people yesterday, so here it is. Thanks again for all the comments, I wish I could say it was the biggest number of people who'd ever called me nauseating, but after the awful events of my 11th birthday party that just wouldn't be true. Hope you enjoy this.**

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"Hi, we're trying to find the McKinley High student who knows the _most_ about American Idol, would you like to take our quiz and see if you could be the winner?"

Mike sighed. This was ridiculous. He'd been standing in the corridor all day asking people to fill out these stupid quizzes, and so far only eight had been completed - all by Brittany. He wasn't even sure how Rachel had persuaded him to do this, apart from the fact he was kind of terrified of her. He hadn't questioned why she wanted to find the most knowledgeable American Idol fan in the school either, because if he was honest, he really, really didn't want to know. Rachel had just mentioned something about handwriting samples and a survey that was "certain to entice Glee club members" and the next thing he knew he was standing next to a cardboard cut-out of Simon Cowell and asking people about a (in his opinion) totally boring TV show.

"Hi, we're trying to find the McKinley High - "

A hush fell over the halls, and Mike barely had time to turn around, or consider fleeing, when a voice rang out.

"Mike Chang."

He gasped, the quiz forms in his hands fluttering as his hands trembled. "You know my name?"

"I've been hearing a lot about you today, Mike. About you asking a few too many questions about a certain wildly popular television show. Well, there's a few questions I'd like to ask _you_."

Mike nodded frantically - he had never had the misfortune of crossing Sue Sylvester's path before, but...well, he'd heard the rumours.

"My office, right now." the Cheerio coach's lip curled in disgust, "And bring Cowell with you."

xxx

If she was honest, Rachel was a little annoyed. She appreciated that gathering information on the level of American Idol knowledge in the McKinley high student body wasn't the most interesting of tasks, but it wasn't as though it was difficult. In fact, she'd explained to Mike at length that _she_ would be doing the hard part - comparing the handwriting of Glee club members to that on the note attached to the bear from her gift-giving groupie (not to mention assessing the quiz results and undoubtedly learning that she remained the undisputed champion of American Idol trivia). Mike, however, had abandoned his post at the quiz booth, taking the Simon Cowell cardboard cut-out with him, and hadn't replied to any of her numerous phone calls or text messages. The only sign that he'd been there at all was a competition form he'd dropped during his exit, in which Brittany stated that Kelly Clarkson was her mom's psychic.

She was surprised then, as she walked into Glee, to see the rest of the club gathered around Mike, who had his head in his hands.

"It was awful," he was saying, "She just wouldn't let me leave..."

Mr Schue looked up as Rachel entered and frowned, "Rachel, have you heard this? Coach Sylvester interrogated Mike in her office for _four hours_ because of your little scheme."

Rachel gasped, "Mike, you refused to break under interrogation for that long?" she smiled, "I'm touched that you'd go to such lengths to avoid revealing my involvement."

Mike looked at her incredulously, "Are you kidding? I told her that after five minutes, she spent the rest of the time giving me a history lesson on music based-reality TV." he shuddered, "It was horrible."

"Rachel, why did you even want to hold an American Idol facts contest anyway? And why couldn't you do the dirty work yourself?"

Finding the eyes of the Glee club on her after Mr Schue's question, Rachel hesitated. On the one hand she_ could_ just admit to the attempt at revealing her MySpace fan, on the other hand, there was a good chance they were in the room just then, and telling them would stop her from pulling off another, similar plan in the future...

In a surprising moment of clarity though, Finn spoke up, "Wait a minute, is this about your internet boyfriend again?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow, "Her internet what?"

Rachel took a deep breath, preparing herself for the jokes which were sure to come, "Firstly, Finn, I do _not_ have an internet boyfriend, although the American Idol quiz was indeed intended to reveal the identity of my internet fa- riend, my internet friend."

Mr Schuester sighed deeply, "Rachel, you have to be careful, okay? I know it's always nice to get compliments, but you're assuming this person is another student with good intentions. It could be anyone though, it could be..."

"...a fifty year-old paedophile who gets his kicks out of googling "excellent lobotomy candidates"", supplied Santana.

"Or a member of Vocal Adrenaline trying to gather information to sabotage our chances at Sectionals." suggested Artie.

"It could be my cat, he's been acting really shifty lately." Brittany said.

"Listen, guys, can we just - " Mr Schue attempted to interrupt, but Kurt stopped him.

"I still maintain it's a bored Cheerio trying to make fun of you, and since Santana denies it, that really only leaves - "

All eyes turned to Quinn, who had been watching the entire exchange quietly, "Yeah, because between Glee, Cheerios practice and a boyfriend, I really have time to stage a huge practical joke. You guys are idiots." she snapped out.

"Now that you mention it...where is Puck today?"

Quinn gave a long-suffering sigh, "He skipped school to take part in the first round of a hot-dog eating contest."

There were a few scoffs, and in a bored monotone that suggested she'd memorised the information against her will, she explained, "Lima Hot-Dog Eating Contest, Round One. If he gets through this round he has the chance to compete for the $500 prize available upon victory in the regional rounds, not to mention the unadulterated glory." she glanced at Mr Schue, "But you didn't hear it from me."

xxx

A message appeared the second Rachel logged into MSN that night.

**MySpace Fan**: I'm not a paedophile, I'm not in Vocal Adrenaline and I'm not just making fun of you.  
**Rachel**: Is this your way of telling me that you're Brittany's cat?  
**MySpace Fan**: No, but I do know the reason it's acting shifty is because Santana keeps giving it vodka.  
**Rachel**: Why do you need to keep it a secret? Who you are, I mean, not the fact that Santana encourages alcoholism in pets.  
**MySpace Fan**: I think if you found out you probably wouldn't want to be friends any more. You definitely wouldn't want to be more than that. I like being able to be nice to you.  
**Rachel**: I don't understand.  
**MySpace Fan**: It doesn't matter. But I'll prove I'm not a paedophile or anything, okay? Just give me a few days :)

xxx

A week. One week since her MySpace friend promised something in "a few days", and although she spoke to them almost every night and repeatedly demanded answers as to when this "proof" would arrive, the only answer she got was "just a few more days :)". She found this less than satisfactory and was, if she was honest, beginning to lose hope that the proof would ever appear.

So, when she opened her locker that morning, she was surprised to find a red rose sitting on top of her calculus text book. "Another cheesy gift." the card read, "Thanks for being patient - come to the auditorium after Glee this afternoon for your proof."

Smiling to herself, she debated how best to keep the rose from being flattened in her locker, when an immense shadow loomed over her.

"Hello, Finn." she said, without looking up.

"Hi, what's got you looking so happy?"

"Oh," she put the flower away carefully next to her books and turned to look at him, "nothing, how are you?"

He grinned, "Awesome! Me and Amy have been on two dates, I think it's going really well,"

She smiled, "I'm happy for you, Finn."

"Me too, she's really cool. Anyway, I was just looking for Puck, but apparently he got into the second round of that hot dog eating contest..."

xxx

She was going to be serenaded, she decided, as she washed her hands in the girls bathroom. Being asked to go to the auditorium? It was a serenade, that was the only option. Or, she grinned manically at herself in the mirror, perhaps they'd have written a song about her. She'd always wanted to have a song written about her - Finn had tried once, but the attempt had fallen apart when he couldn't find anything to rhyme with "Rachel".

"Stop talking to him."

She was broken from her thoughts by a dark haired girl pushing her roughly against the wall - she was wearing a Cheerios uniform, which went some way towards explaining it, but even the cheerleaders didn't normally go for violence (mental torment with the option of denial was more their thing).

"What?" she asked, confused.

"I saw you talking to Finn this morning, I know you dated _all_ summer, and I'm telling you, he's mine now. So stop it."

This did nothing to help her confusion, "I spoke to Finn this morning?" a vague recollection of their conversation came back to her, "Oh! Yes, so I did. Who are you?"

The girl snarled, "I'm his fucking girlfriend. Now leave him alone. I know he's got a line of ex-girlfriends waiting to get their grubby little paws on him and - "

Amy stopped when she noticed Rachel trying to contain a smile (really, she was terrified, but the thought of Finn's ex-girlfriends being desperate to get back with him was hilarious under _any_ circumstance).

"That's _it_." Amy almost yelled, drawing back her fist.

"Woah," someone said, "What's going on here?"

Amy turned around and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief, Mercedes and Tina appeared to have inhumanly good timing.

"Okay, I know you're like, a cheerleader or whatever, but that doesn't mean you get to go around punching people in the face. " Mercedes said, "Especially if you're gonna say really lame things before you do it. So get lost."

Amy looked from Rachel to Mercedes and back again, and clearly deciding she couldn't take all three girls now standing in the bathroom, wisely got lost.

"Are you okay, Rachel?" Tina asked.

"No, I think I need to go to the emergency room."

Mercedes rolled her eyes, "You're fine."

Rachel's expression became the picture of a woman overcoming the odds, "I only hope Finn's other ex-girlfriends don't face the same challenges I have."

"Well, Quinn is Cheerios captain, so if Amy wants to keep her spot, no way would she mess with her."

"What about Santana?"

Mercedes and Tina laughed.

xxx

Rachel looked around the empty choir room slowly, "Is no-one here because they've all gone to visit Santana and Quinn after Amy hospitalised them?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "As I saw Quinn laughing in Amy's face earlier, I very much doubt it."

"Santana would definitely beat Amy in a fight," Brittany added, "She's an expert in kung fu panda."

Slightly mollified, Rachel took a seat, and Mr Schue arrived soon after, looking around at the barren room. "Where is everyone?" he asked the scant members, "Puck and Finn? Quinn and Santana?"

There were general shrugs and a few muttered comments of "hot dog eating contest", so Mr Schue just sighed, "I guess we'll start without them then. Okay, now today - "

He was interrupted, however, by a dramatic entrance into the choir room. Given that it was the Glee club, dramatic entrances weren't entirely uncommon, but it was unusual to see Finn panting in the doorway, "Sam! Mike!" he yelled, pointing at them each in turn, "Amy tried to fight Santana and now they're going _crazy_, you have to come help!"

Mr Schue looked at the remaining Glee club as the footballers rushed out of the room, "Why can I never get a full sentence - "

"Wait," Kurt said, "Santana Lopez and Amy Piper are fighting and we're _not_ there watching? That is totally unacceptable - Mercedes, Tina, I hope your cell phones are charged because we need to get pictures."

It took Mr Schuester a few seconds, but in the end realisation dawned, "Wait, Santana and Amy are _fighting_? I should be stopping this."

xxx

At 5:00PM, half an hour after Glee club would normally end, Rachel sat in the auditorium staring at the empty stage.

She didn't look up as the door opened and closed loudly, and a voice said, "Where the hell is everyone?"

Rachel looked up in surprise as Puck sat down next to her heavily, "Does this mean you're the one I've been talking to on MySpace?"

He looked down at her in confusion, "What? Who still uses MySpace? No. I've been out eating hot dogs all day. I came back for this "special performance" or whatever the hell it was we were supposed to be doing."

"The what?"

He looked at her, "The song Mercedes wanted us to do. We were gonna sing "Stuck in the Middle With You", she sent us all our parts and told us to practice. You didn't know?"

"No, but I have to say it's somewhat surprising that Mercedes is a fan of early 70s British pop bands."

"Yeah, that did seem kind of weird."

Rachel sighed heavily, leaning her head against Puck's shoulder. She couldn't be sure if this performance had been meant for her or not, but either way, clearly nothing was going to happen - no serenade, no song written for her.

"I thought someone was going to sing to me."

He put his arm around her and smiled slightly, "Wouldn't you rather just hear your own voice anyway?"

She nodded glumly, and he sighed leaning his head back, "Not like things are going much better for me."

"Things aren't going well with Quinn?"

He shrugged, "Just seems like...I don't know. She was this uptight Christian girl who'd never date me, and I was like...a bad boy, and she couldn't date me because her parents would freak. So all the fun was in like, chasing each other or whatever. As soon as we got together it was just boring. Not to mention, she totally refuses to have sex with me, and if I'm honest, it's really starting to be a downer."

Rachel laughed, and they sat in silence for a little while longer.

_I'm wondering what it is I should do,_  
_It's so hard to keep this smile from my face,_  
_Losing control, yeah, I'm all over the place,_  
_Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right,_  
_Here I am, stuck in the middle with you._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm really sorry, a week is way too long to leave between updates, but life suddenly and unexpectedly kicked my ass (and I really mean unexpectedly, because I wouldn't start a fic if I wasn't sure I'd be able to update regularly). Anway, to try and make it up I'm going to try and speed up the next few chapters majorly, as well as having at least one spare on hand over the Halloween weekend when I'm not here. Hope you enjoy this anyway :)**

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**Rachel**: Is it really a good thing to be "stuck in the middle" with someone?  
**MySpace Fan**: It is if to the left and right of you there's only clowns and jokers. How did you find that out, anyway?  
**Rachel**: Puck told me.  
**MySpace Fan**: I'm really sorry that the whole thing kind of...fell apart, by the way. Trust Finn to get a crazy girlfriend with terrible timing.  
**Rachel**: Well, she's probably not his FIRST crazy girlfriend...  
**MySpace Fan**: Yeah, Quinn is pretty weird.  
**Rachel**: That's not particularly nice...

xxx

"You're cheating on me."

Quinn's eyes narrowed, "Excuse me?"

Seated around the rest of the room, the Glee club showed varying degrees of interest. Some (Kurt, Mercedes, Tina) were watching intently and occasionally comparing notes, others (Finn, Sam, Artie) were looking away uncomfortably and trying to pretend they weren't listening, and a select few (Brittany, Santana) seemed genuinely disinterested and were talking to each other.

Rachel looked at the clock impatiently, Mr Schue was _already_ late and if he arrived to find Puck and Quinn fighting he'd undoubtedly want to attempt to resolve the problem and give a speech on the importance of sticking together as a team. While she couldn't dispute the merits of teamwork, Sectionals were fast approaching and they really were woefully unprepared (although this was at least partly her own fault, since she'd been spending more and more lunchtimes in the library as opposed to rehearsing suitable song selections. Nevertheless, Schue did have his own duties).

"Noah, Quinn," she attempted to intervene, "While I appreciate that this is an important - "

"Shut up, Rachel."

She gaped wordlessly at Noah, suddenly afraid of becoming collateral damage.

"I'm not cheating on you."

Puck raised his arms in indignation, "What the hell am I supposed to think? You're constantly busy, you're not interested in me." he lowered his voice and narrowed his eyes, "It's not like it would be the first time you cheated on someone."

There was a gasp and muttering from everyone in the room (even those who'd previously looked bored), "Puck," Finn tried, "Calm down, dude, don't you think - "

"No," Quinn said, "It's fine." she turned to Puck, (he at least, Rachel thought, had the decency to look a little regretful), "Okay first of all, I'm not cheating on you. Second, I'm sorry that I'm busy with school, and Cheerios, and Glee, and that watching you play video games and talk to Finn about whether it's possible that everyone else in the world is secretly a robot doesn't come top of my priority list. Third, you're an asshole. I'm going to leave now, and you can talk to me when you've calmed down."

Quinn's storm out wasn't quite at the level of Rachel Berry-perfection, but it was quite impressive, and it did leave Puck standing in the middle of the room, mouth open and looking slightly foolish. There was silence for a few seconds, before Mercedes looked around in confusion, "Wait, practice was supposed to start twenty minutes ago, where the hell is Schuester?"

xxx

Will shifted in his chair and sighed. Sue stared at him from across the desk.

"Really, Sue, you said this would only take five minutes, now I'm late for Glee and you haven't even said anything so can we just - "

"William, William, William."

Will sighed, he wasn't sure why he bothered trying to reason with her, or why he'd agreed to see her right before Glee club was supposed to start.

"Do you know how I became an internationally recognised cheerleading coach?"

"Sabotage and blackmail?"

"Be quiet. I became an internationally recognised cheerleading coach because I am an _expert_ in the ancient art of subtlety."

Will raised his eyebrows, Sue Sylvester was a lot of things, but subtle really wasn't one of them.

"I've been taking notice of your Glee kids Schuester. Your tiny female siren has been spending her lunch periods in the library, your gangly wailing boy has been dating girls outside of your incestuous little flock, another has taken an alarming interest in American Idol, and I could continue. You're clearly up to something, I want to know what's going on, and I want to know now."

Will took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, as ever, he had very little idea what she was talking about, "Nothing's going on, Sue, the kids - "

She slammed her fist on the desk, "Don't lie to me, William, I have a nose like a bloodhound and I can smell deception. Now, we're going to sit here in silence until you tell me what's going on."

Will looked at the clock - this was going to be a long afternoon.

xxx

"Wait, where are you all going?" Rachel looked on in horror as the other Glee members began to pack up their things to leave, "We still have fifteen more minutes."

Finn shrugged, "Mr Schue clearly isn't coming, Rach, let's just go."

Rachel, small though she was, did an impressive job of blocking the doorway by standing in front of it, "Regardless, we should still practice so as not to waste our time before Sectionals, for example there are some vocal exercises - "

"Who died and made you the queen of living? Get out of the way."

"Please move, Rachel, my cat was really sick this morning, I want to make sure he's okay." Brittany said with a pout.

Rachel looked at Santana, who didn't, Rachel thought, look like she felt particularly guilty about Brittany's hungover pet. This distraction gave Puck time to lift her out of the way though, and the rest of the club filed out even as she stamped her foot and warned them of their impending humiliation at Sectionals if this kind of lax practice continued.

A few minutes later she walked into the girls bathroom, still muttering to herself and composing an angry email to Mr Schuester in her head, but stopped dead when she was confronted with Quinn Fabray, who also seemed to be muttering to herself (a rather rare lapse in composure, Rachel thought).

She was about to turn and leave, but Quinn's voice stopped her. "I'm not cheating on him."

Rachel looked away and wondered why she kept running into undesirable encounters with Cheerios in the bathroom recently, "That's not really any of my business."

Quinn's reflection in the mirror was staring intently at her, and Rachel met her gaze (she was Rachel Berry, she refused to be intimidated). "I've just been talking a lot to someone else. I guess I kind of like them."

Was this the longest conversation she and Quinn had ever had without the other girl insulting her? Probably, Rachel considered, which didn't really go a long way towards explaining why the head cheerleader suddenly seemed to be confiding in her.

"Why are you telling me?"

Quinn blinked suddenly and shook her head, as if her mind had been somewhere else entirely, and turned to lean against the sinks. "I don't know. Who else am I going to tell?"

"Well there's always - "

"Most of my friends seemed to disappear when I put this uniform back on."

Quinn was looking away from her now, but Rachel could only frown at her in confusion. Was this an offer of friendship? From Quinn Fabray? As always however, she recovered herself admirably (it was a trait she rehearsed in order to prepare for difficult questions at future press conferences). "Perhaps if you like someone else you should break up with Puck."

The cheerleader gave her a sideways glance, "Aren't you going to ask who I like?"

For one, brief second, Rachel imagined Quinn revealing that _she_ was the MySpace admirer, that she loved Rachel and was going to break up with Puck to be with her, and that she had an uncle who was very influential on Broadway and was _very_ interested in meeting her. She shook the thought away, and cast about wildly for an idea of who the girl's actual crush might be (the strictly Christian teenage mother and former president of the celibacy club was also secretly gay? That seemed a bit of a stretch - Rachel Berry dreamed big, but not _that_ big), "Is it...Sam?" she asked, the new football player seeming the most likely option.

Quinn laughed, "Yeah, Rachel, it's Sam I like." she shook her head, "Sam."

Rachel beamed, "Well I have always trusted my natural ability to read people, and honestly - "

"Wow, you were _this _close to a normal human interaction!"

Rachel pouted, but Quinn didn't really look annoyed at all.

xxx

**Rachel**: I talked to Quinn today, I think it was the first time she's managed to get through a conversation without insulting me.  
**MySpace Fan**: What did you talk about?  
**Rachel**: She isn't cheating on Puck.  
**MySpace Fan**: Good for her.  
**Rachel**: It's sort of funny, before Glee club began and I started being interested in Finn, I had a huge crush on her.  
**MySpace Fan**: You had a crush on a girl?  
**Rachel**: When you're at the bottom of the social heap and the only person interested in you is Jacob Ben Israel, there's not really any point in limiting yourself.  
**MySpace Fan**: That's an interesting take on bisexuality.  
**Rachel**: Yes, in actuality I rather doubt my crush on Quinn was affected by how popular I am.  
**MySpace Fan**: If it were up to me, you'd be far more popular.  
**Rachel**: Thank you. Anyway, I should go, my dad and I are getting up early to go to an auction for a one of a kind, hand-made Parisian music box that plays Taylor Swift songs when you open it.  
**MySpace Fan**: Taylor Swift?  
**Rachel**: My dad's a big fan.

xxx

"Oh my God," Rachel's dad looked inordinately excited.

"What? Is Perez Hilton here?" she asked, with rather more sarcasm than her friends in the Glee club would expect from Rachel Berry (as much as she loved him, it was occasionally trying to have a father who perpetuated nearly every stereotype of gay men).

"No," her father glared, "And if he was I wouldn't be standing here talking to you. They have a signed picture of that guy from the hair dye commercial."

"Oh," Rachel gave a small smile, "Finn loves him."

"I know," her father gave a dramatic sigh, "I can't believe you two broke up, I really liked him. And after you'd dated all summer!"

Rachel rolled her eyes, "Let's just look at the other lots before the auction starts, shall we?"

Her father agreed, and she tried to talk him out of buying the signed photograph for Finn (it would just be really, really creepy, she pointed out) as they browsed the other items. Rachel wasn't quite sure how to describe the kind of auctions she and her father usually attended, she knew they were normally held for more easily categorised items, like antiques and cars, but these auctions could be described as holding little more than "miscellaneous celebrity paraphernalia". Not that she was complaining (she had once found a letter from Barbra Streisand to a friend stating she wished the musical had been called "Amusing Girl"), she very much enjoyed them, and it was interesting, really, to see the things on sale. It had given her something of an eye as well for spotting the fake from the genuine (although she maintained the Barbra Streisand letter was real).

As such, she looked on in amusement as a blonde woman inspected some socks that had apparently once belonged to John Lennon (she found it rather unlikely that he had worn socks with the days of the week sewn on). She was feeling rather charitable though (despite the clear ignorance of the potential buyer) so she approached, intent on explaining their mistake. As she neared however, she noticed something very familiar in the back of their head, even though they were wearing jeans and a jacket instead of a cheerleading uniform.

"Quinn?" she asked, rather too loudly it seemed, as several heads turned towards her.

Quinn span around, blushing, "Do you have to yell?" she asked firstly, and secondly, "Are you wearing a Taylor Swift t-shirt?"

It was Rachel's turn to look embarassed then, "My dad's a big fan," she explained.

Quinn smirked, "Yeah, sure."

"What are you doing here anyway?" Rachel said, in an slightly transparent attempt to distract her (what was wrong with Taylor Swift anyway?).

"Uh," Quinn gestured in a vague direction, "My mom wanted to come. What about you?"

Rachel was slightly distracted from the question by attempting to spot anyone who might feasibly be Quinn's mom in the direction she had pointed, but failing, she replied. "My dad and I come here quite often, today we're bidding on a Taylor Swift music box."

Quinn nodded solemnly, in a clear attempt at not laughing, "Well I was thinking about getting these John Lennon socks. I mean that's pretty cool, John Lennon's socks, right?"

Rachel shook her head, slowly and sadly, "Quinn, I don't want to sound unkind, but you are clearly utterly lost in the world of miscellaneous celebrity paraphernalia"

xxx

**Rachel**: I bumped into Quinn again today.  
**MySpace Fan**: You talk about her a lot, you know that?  
**Rachel**: It's weird, I used to want to be friends with her so much. I suppose I haven't really grown out of that.  
**MySpace Fan**: Why not?  
**Rachel**: I don't know, she always seems lonely. I suppose we have that in common.  
**MySpace Fan**: I think me and you have that in common too.  
**Rachel**: I don't want you to be lonely.  
**MySpace Fan**: I don't feel so lonely when I'm with you.

That night, Rachel lay awake in bed. "I don't feel so lonely when I'm _with_ you." Not "when I talk to you" but "_when I'm with you_". She would have to scheme harder, because it was vital she found out the identity of her friend.

xxx

Finn sighed deeply.

Rachel wondered if she could feasibly pretend she hadn't heard him - he was standing right next to her locker, but he was at least a foot taller than her so perhaps he'd overlooked her entirely. He sighed again and she groaned inwardly - no, he definitely knew she was here.

"Is everything all right, Finn?" she asked, smiling brightly.

"No," he said, looking every bit an unhappy puppy, "Amy got sent to military school."

Rachel raised one eyebrow, "Well, she did attempt to attack your ex-girlfriends, all of which are your friends, I'll remind you."

He shrugged, shaking his head, "It wasn't that. She got kicked off the Cheerios, and her parents said that meant she had to go - if Sylvester couldn't keep her in check, the military was the only option."

She attempted her best sympathetic look, although she privately thought Amy probably got everything she deserved, "Well I'm very sorry, Finn. I have to admit though, I'm surprised that Coach Sylvester was overly concerned with Amy's tendency for violence - she does keep Santana on the squad, after all."

"It wasn't that, someone told Sylvester about some music on Amy's iPod that she totally forbids."

"Insane Clown Posse?"

"No, Katy Perry."

Rachel gave him a confused look, but decided questioning _him_ on Coach Sylvester's logic was unlikely to lead anywhere useful. Instead she placed a hand on his arm, "Well this may cheer you up, my dad has a present for you, I'll bring it for you tomorrow." He grinned brightly, and shuffled off. She shook her head in amusement (he was easily pleased) and went back to searching for the history text book that she'd somehow lost in her normally hyper-organised locker. Distracted as she was, she barely noticed the conversation occurring nearby.

"Santana, please don't do anything dumb." Quinn was saying, "You can't get arrested again."

Santana gave a small, sly smile, "Actually, Fabray, I wanted to enlist your help..."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: The main song in this chapter is called "Nicest Thing" and it's by Kate Nash, if you'd like to go listen to it. Also in this chapter we discover Santana has a secret love for quaint British detective novels.**

**Thanks for all people reading/reviewing/making me feel incredibly flattered and blush-y when they link me on tumblr, it's really appreciated :) Hope you enjoy this.**

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It wasn't the first time in her life that Rachel was cursing her rather diminutive stature, not that she would ever admit it. It was, after all, not necessary to be physically large in order to have excellent stage presence (but it did make it easier to have an ego three times the size of you, as some of the more unkind students at McKinley might have said). Stage presence, however, was little help when in English class with one Finn Hudson sitting directly in front of you, and the slightly shorter but equally wide Sam Evans and Noah Puckerman sitting either side of him. Normally of course, she sat front and centre, so as to minimise distractions and ensure the teacher saw _her_ raised hand first when it came to answering questions. She'd been running late today however, after finding a copy of Taylor Swift's new single in her locker and being sent into an epic romantic fantasy involving a serenade and a thousand red roses (the fact she wasn't quite sure what face to give to her Romeo was a minor detail), and so had been forced into the back row, behind the Glee club football players.

Straining up in her street, Rachel tried in vain to see over Finn's immense shoulders, wondering why they didn't just sit in the back row - wasn't that the place to sit when you wished to maintain the illusion of disinterest in education in front of your peers? At least, she thought, as she attempted to write down what the teacher was saying, they weren't talking to each other and she could hear what was going on.

"Hey, dude." Finn whispered to Sam.

Rachel rolled her eyes - sometimes it really felt like someone was exploiting her inner monologue for comedic purposes.

"Dude," Finn repeated, in a whisper that could probably be heard from space, "Are you really gonna ask her out?"

Rachel sighed, she was trying to learn about English literature and instead she was being treated to idle gossip. She considered telling them, politely, to please shut up... but then again as Glee club captain it really _was_ her duty to know about any social occasions that might disrupt the dynamic of the team, so she decided to allow them to continue. For the good of the team.

Sam shrugged, "I don't know, I think so. She seems into me." he pointed at Finn's paper, "And Shakespeare is just one word."

"No it's definitely two." Finn answered, and Rachel suppressed a groan as she buried her face in her hands. "Are you sure? I mean, going out with her could get...kind of insane. I mean _really_ insane."

Rachel's eyebrows raised, Sam was thinking of asking someone insane out?

"I know...I mean, I don't even know where I'd take her. I totally suck at this stuff."

"Just take her to see some crappy chick flick, girls dig that." Puck barely bothered to whisper.

Rachel looked at Puck, if he knew about this then Sam definitely wasn't asking Quinn out. So if it wasn't her, then who could it be?

"She'll definitely like that." Finn added.

"Mr Hudson," their English teacher interrupted, "Since you seem to have so much to say, perhaps you can tell us what a sonnet is?"

Finn looked bewildered, "Uh, isn't he a hedgehog?"

There was general laughter through the classroom, but Rachel barely noticed. Sam was going to ask out someone who liked "chick flicks" and would cause insanity? She grinned - she was pretty sure the search for her MySpace fan had just ended.

xxx

"Quinn, I need to talk to you." Rachel stood in front of the table where Quinn and Santana were eating. She normally ate her lunch in the library or the choir room, so she was a little unsettled by the bustling cafeteria. "It's about an urgent and _private_ matter." she added, looking at the dark-haired cheerleader pointedly.

Santana took another bite of her sandwich, "I'm not leaving."

Rachel huffed in annoyance, but as she was endlessly impatient, took a seat next to them anyway. "It's about Sam." she said, in a whisper that could rival Finn's in volume. "I think it's important that you know he doesn't return your affections - in fact I believe he has his sights set on a rather different member of the Glee club."

Quinn blinked. "Yeah, we know."

Rachel looked from one Cheerio to the other in confusion, "Well aren't you upset? I thought you liked him."

Santana smirked, "Oh yeah, I forgot about that huge crush Quinn has on Sam. Berry's totally right, shouldn't you be devastated? You know. Because of your huge crush on him."

Quinn glared at her, "I'm very good at keeping my emotions in check. I'm very _subtle_. Something _some of us_ could work on. After all, we know who Sam's asking out, don't we?"

Santana's lips curled, and Rachel frowned. "Well, if you know who he's asking out, I sincerely hope it won't cause any problems in our fledgling friendship."

"What do you mean?"

"Our newest Glee club member is planning on asking me out. And I have to say, Quinn, if it will cause ill-feeling between us, I won't hesitate to decline, Sam and I aren't - "

"Wait." Quinn looked confused, "Sam isn't going to ask you out."

"He isn't?"

"No, Scrappy Doo." Santana said, "He's going to ask Brittany out."

xxx

Rachel peered over the menu, dark sunglasses hiding her eyes. Brittany and Sam, she was sure, would be completely unable to recognise her. She was undercover, a spy on a top secret mission the nature of which could be revealed to no-one. Glaring across the restaurant at the two blondes, she wondered if Sam really wasn't her MySpace admirer - or was this all an elaborate ruse to disguise his true identity? She didn't know him very well, she couldn't be sure he was that cunning, and if she was honest she would be a little disappointed if he was - he seemed nice and everything, but she couldn't shake the idea of him being Finn in a blonde wig.

Brittany turned her head and she gasped and ducked down behind the menu again, cursing herself for deciding against bringing a menu with pre-cut eye holes. Dark glasses would only go so far, she knew, and she couldn't take any chances. Daring to peer over the menu again, she whispered into her digital recorder, "7:08PM, Brittany and Sam appear to be ordering their food. Sam has consumed eighteen bread sticks."

Santana looked at Quinn, "Why the hell did we bring her?"

Quinn shrugged, staring at Rachel hiding behind her menu, "She wanted proof that Sam isn't her MySpace whatever. Plus she has her own night vision goggles."

Rachel whipped her head round as Santana muttered something that caused Quinn to elbow her in the ribs, "Would you two be quiet? I can't observe properly if you keep - "

"Oh shut up, Berry." Santana said, rolling her eyes for maybe the fiftieth time that night, "We're just here to make sure he doesn't try anything funny. He's not likely to do that in a busy restaurant, is he? And take those sunglasses off, you look dumb." she paused, "Actually, I think I like it better when I can't see your face."

"Leave her alone, she's enjoying herself."

Rachel had, in fact, taken her sunglasses off though and was staring at Santana with interest. Santana sighed, sensing she was about to be engaged in conversation. "Why do you want to spy on their date? I thought Brittany went out with lots of people."

When Santana continued eating bread sticks and clearly had no intention of replying, Quinn answered for her, "Brittany _sleeps_ with a lot of people. She doesn't go on dates with them. So her asshole "best friend" here doesn't want Sam doing things like...I don't know, being nice." She smiled sweetly at the other girl, "Things Lady Lopez is too much of a bitch to do."

Santana slammed her hands down on the table, sending bread sticks flying, "I'm nice to her, okay? I'm fucking lovely to her. She's just going on this stupid date to make me jealous because I wouldn't agree to be her girlfriend and march through school carrying a rainbow flag or whatever. So, shut the hell up Fabray, before I spill a few secrets you wouldn't want to get out. And Berry, their waiter just left and you haven't even told your little recorder thingy, so get back on the damn case, Poirot."

Quinn smirked but stayed silent, Rachel put her sunglasses back on and Santana glared at Sam.

xxx

**Rachel**: I've successfully narrowed down my shortlist of candidates for who you are.  
**MySpace Fan**: It took you all night to realise I'm not Sam?  
**Rachel**: No, that didn't take very long at all, but then Sam kissed Brittany and it took Quinn and I, as well as three waiters, to hold Santana back.  
**MySpace Fan**: Did you make that up to hide the fact you really enjoyed playing James Bond?  
**Rachel**: So you were there! Perhaps you are Sam...  
**MySpace Fan**: Or I just have my own spies. Or I could be Santana or Brittany.  
**Rachel**: Santana?  
**MySpace Fan**: Okay, probably not Santana.  
**Rachel**: So when will I find out who you are?  
**MySpace Fan**: I don't know, I have to fix a few things first.

xxx

Rachel stared at Brittany in confusion. She, along with a few other Cheerios, was dressed in a long skirt, a blouse practically buttoned to her chin, and a cross necklace very similar to Quinn's. They appeared to be handing out pamphlets with titles like "Jesus is my BFF" and "Church is hip, yo". She approached with extreme caution.

"Brittany..." she began slowly, "Are you okay?"

Brittany gave a bright smile, "Yes, Rachel. Would you like to find out how God can enwhiten your life?"

Rachel stared around the halls, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate practical joke. "No thank you. Why are you doing this?"

"Coach Sylvester said we had to, in order to - " the girl frowned as she tried to remember, "in order to 'please our holy sponsors'." she shrugged, "I guess that means God."

"Okay then. Where are Santana and Quinn?"

Unexpectedly, Brittany frowned. "Santana is probably with _Puck_, since he's her _boyfriend_ now. Since she wants to date a boy and _never ever_ date a girl."

"What? No, Brittany, Quinn and Puck are dating."

"Not any more, ask Quinn, she's over there counting how many conversions we've made."

Rachel found Quinn sitting behind a desk with a Cheerios cloth draped over it, several piles of pamphlets in front of her, muttering to herself about whether they could technically be counted as a convert if they weren't sure which denomination they'd like to go into. She looked up as Rachel, who was feeling more bewildered than ever, approached.

"Hi," she said, "Would you like to hear about how God can enlighten your life?"

"What? No, I've just been talking to Brittany, and she said - "

Quinn sighed, putting the cap back on her pen, "Is she still telling people that God is sponsoring us? I explained to her like three times..." she shook her head, "I'll have to get someone to supervise her. Anyway, this super strict Christian group offered Sylvester like, a ton of sponsorship money, but in exchange we have to give out these stupid pamphlets, and we have a quota of people to convert to Christianity per week. And we have to dress in these crappy outfits for a while."

"Sue Sylvester is certifiably insane, isn't she?"

Quinn laughed, "Yeah, but you get used to it. And she's most of our tickets into college, so as long as we keep winning, we'll keep doing her bidding."

Rachel smiled, "I'm sure you could get into college without the aid of the Cheerios, Quinn."

Quinn blushed and shrugged, and Rachel suddenly remembered the more pressing matter she wanted to ask about. "Brittany also said that Santana and Puck are dating."

The cheerleader was distracted by a potential new convert, although Rachel was fairly certain he was among the few students who almost got suspended for worshipping Satan in the gym the year before. As it turned out though, a smile from a pretty cheerleader could convince pretty much anyone, and he went away clutching a handful of pamphlets.

Marking the tally chart on her sheet, Quinn finally answered, "I don't think they're dating as much as Santana is pretending they are, in a desperate, transparent attempt to make Brittany jealous. Although I'm pretty sure it's working."

Rachel was back to being confused, "Quinn, you may have forgotten, but _you_ and Puck are dating."

Quinn gave her a sideways glance, "Keep up, Rachel. We broke up this morning."

"You don't seem very upset about it."

"You know he's not the one I like right now."

"Yes," Rachel gave a small sigh, "You like Sam."

It seemed you didn't have to worship Satan for a smile from a pretty cheerleader to give you butterflies.

xxx

**Rachel**: It seemed a little callous for Quinn to be so dismissive of her break-up with Puck, after everything they went through.  
**MySpace Fan**: Come on, it was pretty obvious they got bored of each other the second they got together. They only stayed together out of obligation, and broke up the second one of them got a better offer.  
**Rachel**: You seem very knowledgeable about this, secret friend. Or should I say...Puck?  
**MySpace Fan**: Would Puck play online Scrabble with you?  
**Rachel**: Probably not.  
**MySpace Fan**: You want to play?  
**Rachel**: You read my mind!

xxx

"Okay guys," as usual, Mr Schuester looked incredibly excited about whatever lesson he'd plucked out of the air that week, "We're in for a treat today, Quinn's prepared a solo for us."

Looking nervous, Quinn began to rise from her seat, and Rachel privately wondered if Quinn would allow her to help with her solos, if their friendship continued to develop - as she hoped it would.

"Uh, okay." she looked at Brad, "This is called 'Nicest Thing'. Um, here goes."

Quinn took a deep breath as the first few notes were played on the piano, and Rachel couldn't help but smile a little to herself as the girl began to sing.

"All I know is that you're so nice,  
You're the nicest thing I've seen."

"Rachel Berry!" the piano, singing and Rachel's smile cut off abruptly as Jacob Ben Israel burst into the room, "I can't hold it in any longer. I'm your secret MySpace admirer, it's _me_!"

Rachel's mouth dropped open in horror, Santana laughed loudly and there was giggles and muttering through the rest of the room. Quinn was looking at him incredulously.

After staring, shell-shocked for a few long moments, Mr Schue appeared to remember he was a teacher, and put a hand on Jacob's shoulder. "We're in the middle of practice right now, maybe you and Rachel can sort out anything going on between you later, okay?"

Rachel found her voice, finally, "There's nothing going on between us! There's no way he can be - "

"I'll wait for you!" Jacob cried, as he was guided from the room.

"Okay," Mr Schue said, when the door was safely closed, "Quinn, could you start over please?"

Quinn sighed, looking at Rachel with a frown, but nodded, and the piano started again. As she began to sing, Santana glanced at Rachel, who still staring in shock at the closed door, and rolled her eyes. "It is impossible for anyone to be this dumb."

_All I know is that you're so nice,_  
_You're the nicest thing I've seen._  
_I wish that we could give it a go,_  
_See if we could be something._  
_I wish I was your favourite girl._  
_I wish you thought I was the reason, you are in the world._  
_I wish my smile was your favourite kind of smile._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: thanks again for comments and for reading :). People who were beginning to worry that Rachel is mentally challenged will probably like this chapter.**

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Rachel sighed deeply to herself as she opened Jacob's locker. She had hoped to live her life without ever going near any of his personal items, but she needed proof that he wasn't her MySpace admirer so he'd stop following her around and asking her to comment on his pictures. It was almost predictably easy that his locker combination was her birthday. Staring at the pictures of herself taken from closets that plastered the inside though, she had rather more pressing matters on her mind. Or rather, a more pressing matter on her mind, the only thing that ever seemed to be on her mind - Quinn Fabray.

It was very easy not to like the girl when she insulted you constantly and threw slushies at you almost daily. It was rather more difficult when she suddenly began treating you like a friend, seemed to actually enjoy your company and even allowed you to tag along on reconnaissance missions with Santana and her. It was impossible not to like her, to like her _a lot_, when she gave you those smiles, and she wore those stupidly short Cheerios skirts - Rachel had to stop flipping through Jacob's folder of pictures of McKinley's female student's heads photoshopped on to porn star's bodies to consider _those_ Cheerios skirts. And that wasn't even mentioning the fact that Quinn turned out to be funny and nice and fun to be around (even if she did have questionable taste in music), and if she wasn't terrified of ruining what was turning into a really good friendship, Rachel would probably be able to invite Quinn over to her house to bake cookies and watch movies and make out.

Wait. Rachel shook her head. No, not that last thing. Quinn was _straight_ - she was pretty sure you couldn't get any straighter. Up until a few days ago she'd had a boyfriend after all, and while she didn't exactly seem devastated about losing him, she already liked another guy. And true, that guy was dating someone else and she didn't seem too upset about that either. And actually, hadn't Quinn been right by her locker just before she found that first bear her secret admirer left her? And she sang that song in Glee about wanting someone to like her, and Santana kept making weird hints about Quinn having some secret, not to mention she showed up at that auction the day after Rachel told her secret friend about it. Plus her MySpace admirer did seem to be very knowledgeable about Puck and Quinn's relationship - as well as knowing that Santana had been giving Brittany's cat vodka. Then there was the fact it had been Rachel who first suggested Quinn might like Sam, previous to that all Quinn had said was that she liked someone. And her online friend had actually admitted to being at the restaurant when they'd been spying on Brittany and Sam, and since she was pretty sure she could dismiss the two blondes (she wasn't sure they'd have the intelligence to carry out the plan between them) and the idea of it being Santana was just laughable, that really only left Quinn. How hadn't she noticed any of those things before? Perhaps Quinn wasn't quite so straight, and she was her MySpace admirer - it seemed to make absolutely perfect sense...

No, this was probably all just wishful thinking. It couldn't be Quinn - the phrase "too good to be true" existed for a reason, after all. This did present her with the problem, of course, of who her MySpace admirer actually was. And she liked them too, she really did - she could speak to them for hours about almost nothing at all, and they told her she was beautiful, and she was very aware that it was all very cliché, but she was Rachel Berry, and she liked clichés But she didn't know who they were, and if she was honest, she was beginning to lose hope that they'd ever tell her. There had to be a reason they'd chosen to keep it a secret to begin with, after all.

She turned the pages of a sketchbook featuring several drawings of herself as a mermaid. She needed to concentrate on the task at hand. Which would be a lot easier if she could just stop thinking about -

"Rachel? What are you doing?"

Quinn Fabray.

She span around, "Quinn! I'm...uh... just... getting books from my locker."

Quinn raised an eyebrow, "This isn't your locker. And I wouldn't be entirely surprised to learn you keep pictures of yourself there, but I don't know why you'd have grainy black and white ones taken from twenty feet away." She poked one photo with a frown, "And some that are apparently taken from a tree outside your bedroom. Really, Rachel? You have a tree right outside your bedroom window that people are able to climb and see inside from? Do you live in a sitcom?"

Rachel was briefly distracted by a daydream involving Quinn climbing through her bedroom window, but managed to recover herself, "Okay, I admit, I'm trying to find proof that Jacob isn't my secret MySpace friend. However, if you're going to report me to the appropriate authorities I ask you to take into account the circumstances surrounding this act of unlawfulness, particularly that Jacob Ben Israel is awful."

Quinn shrugged, "I'm not opposed to a little breaking and entering if it's for a good cause." Rachel couldn't help wondering if _climbing through a bedroom window_ counted as breaking and entering, and whether the exact activities Rachel had in mind after that were a _good cause_.

Luckily the other girl didn't seem to noticed her moment of distraction because she was lost in her own thoughts too. "Anyway," the blonde said finally, "I might not have to report you." she pointed to the back of Jacob's locker, "Because apparently he has his own surveillance going on."

Rachel looked at the camera. The little red light blinked at her. Jacob was really weird, but it had given her an idea.

xxx

"I really don't understand why this is such a difficult plan to carry out, Artie, you've already helped me spy on the Glee club before. If anything, spying on Jacob Ben Israel should be easier because it comes without the moral scruples of betraying your friend's trust."

Artie looked like he was wondering if he could wheel away fast enough to escape Rachel. Apparently deciding that it would be too tricky to negotiate the stairs, he replied, "It's not that, Rachel, it's just that somehow getting a camera small enough that Jacob wouldn't notice it and then attaching it to something is incredibly difficult. Probably impossible."

Rachel sighed, "I _must_ find a way to prove he isn't my MySpace friend, yesterday he created eight different accounts and sent me nine friend requests from all of them. And the profile pictures of each were of him in various states of undress. Attaching a camera to his property and filming him to prove he is elsewhere at the time my MySpace friend is online is the only way to do so."

"I'm pretty sure there are about a thousand easier ways than that."

"I'll give you a hundred dollars."

"I'll see what I can do."

xxx

**MySpace Fan**: Okay I think we need a new rule, you have to wear that costume from Chicago every day.  
**Rachel**: You liked it?  
**MySpace Fan**: Well, I have eyes, so yes, I did.

xxx

"Rachel!"

Rachel looked around quickly for an easy escape route, finding none, she said, "Jacob, for the last time I won't sign your petition to support the school allowing nudity in it's performances, it's just not right."

Jacob looked like he was about to cry, "No it's not that, although if you ever change your mind I'd still like you to sign it. It's this." He sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand, then held out a piece of paper. Rachel took it gingerly, silently grateful that she had hand sanitiser in her locker. Written in letters cut out from magazines, the paper said "I have stolen your bird. Admit you are lying about MySpace or the bird GETS IT." Attached was a picture of a parrot.

Rachel frowned, "Someone sent you a ransom note for your pet parrot? I didn't even know you had a pet parrot. And the only condition is that you admit you aren't my MySpace fan? This seems a little contrived."

Jacob nodded frantically, "Yes, so I'm here to tell you that I'm not your MySpace person. I wish I was but I'm not, now please tell _whoever_ did this to give me my bird back." he sniffed again, "I even taught it to say "How do you respond to the rumours that Rachel Berry and yourself are engaged?""

Despite herself, Rachel couldn't help being a little flattered.

xxx

"Hey Rachel," Quinn said with a smile. "What are you up to? Insane schemes?"

Rachel laughed, in the middle of putting her books away after class, "Contrary to popular belief, Quinn, I'm not constantly engaged in secretive plots. Have you seen Artie anywhere?"

"You want to talk to Artie about something that isn't a secret plot? I don't believe you."

"I do have conversation topics other than madcap plans, Quinn."

"I know," Quinn grinned, "You have musicals and political activism. You want to eat lunch together?"

Rachel hesitated, but she really did have to tell Artie his assistance with Jacob was no longer required, "I'm afraid not, Quinn."

The cheerleader looked distracted suddenly though, "Oh, wait, I completely forgot - "

Rummaging through her bag, she pulled out a flyer and handed it to Rachel.

"'Lima Karaoke Night'?" Rachel beamed, "_Karaoke_?"

Quinn smiled, "Yeah, I thought it might be something you'd be into. You want to go?"

"You mean...do I want to go with you? Together?"

"No, I thought you could go alone. You know, as a Glee club representative."

Rachel's face fell, "Oh. Well I suppose..."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "I'm kidding, Rachel. Yes I'm asking if you want to go together."

Quinn Fabray made it really hard not to like her.

xxx

**Rachel**: Thank you for calling off Jacob. I assume the parrot kidnapping was your doing.  
**MySpace Fan**: Of course :) Don't worry, I wouldn't really have hurt it if he hadn't admitted it. I was going to give it to Brittany as a present.  
**Rachel**: I thought she was a fan of ducks?  
**MySpace Fan**: She is, but she'd have liked the parrot too. I was going to teach it to say "Rachel Berry is so awesome" to piss Santana off.  
**Rachel**: I thought Brittany and Santana were still broken up?  
**MySpace Fan**: They are, but they'll make up. They're like, fated to be together or something. Kind of like us...  
**Rachel**: I should probably mention, I have a crush on someone else.  
**MySpace Fan**: Uh...okay? How do you know it's someone else? You don't know who I am.  
**Rachel**: I can be fairly certain you aren't this person.

xxx

"Rachel, mission accomplished."

Rachel looked up from the piano, "What?"

Artie smiled, "Mission accomplished. I planted the camera on Jacob's bag. Here," he handed her a piece of paper, "This explains how you can connect your computer to it and see what's going on."

Rachel's mouth opened and closed. She'd been so excited about karaoke she'd completely forgotten to tell Artie she didn't need to spy on Jacob any more.

"So, do I get my hundred dollars now?"

Promising to get the money to him later, Quinn approached as he left to sit next to Mercedes and Kurt as they waited for Glee club rehearsal to start, "What are you and Xavier talking about?"

Rachel looked confused, "Xavier? Isn't that something of a nerdy reference for you, Quinn?"

Quinn folded her arms, "Are you defending him?" she looked across the room at Artie, then back at Rachel, "_Oh_. I see. I didn't think he'd be your type."

"My type? What do you - "

She was interrupted by Brittany's loud exclamation. "Oh, wow, Sam, I love your hair. It's so...blonde!"

Santana glared at her from her seat next to Puck, "I can't wait to go home and have sex with you Puck." she said equally loudly, practically climbing into his lap.

Brittany didn't even bother to look away from Santana when she said, "Sam, you're so nice, you take me on really good dates, I had so much fun at the park with you yesterday."

Sam looked confused, "We didn't go to the - "

"Puck you're definitely the hottest person I've _ever_ slept with. _Ever_."

Rachel glanced up at Quinn, who seemed to be trying to contain her laughter. "This seems rather immature. Are they still trying to make each other jealous?"

Quinn looked down at her, "I don't know, why don't you ask your _crush_." she said, her eyes widening comically, before storming away to sit next to Brittany, who was naming all of the rubber ducks Sam had supposedly bought for her, glaring at Santana kissing Puck (with her eyes open, she was glaring back at Brittany).

Rachel was confused.

xxx

_Dear 4Chan,_  
_I was recently engaged in an exchange with one of your users, during which they became aggressive and threatening. While I admit that the issue of the West End versus Broadway is a divisive one, I feel calling me a "Nazi faggot with shit for brains" along with a rather disturbing photographic image was entirely inappropriate as a response, nor did it address any of the compelling arguments I had made. I hope to see you -_

Rachel sighed. This letter was pointless really, 4chan had never responded satisfactorily to her emails, although she did now have a rather comprehensive list of websites to never, ever visit. She looked around her room in boredom - if she didn't bother to finish her letter of complaint she had some time to kill before her rhetoric class. Her eyes fell on Artie's sheet of paper explaining how to access the camera he'd planted on Jacob.

She really had no reason to watch him any more.

But then again, it would be helpful to know how _exactly_ he got into her house that one time.

She followed the instructions quickly, and before long a black and white picture appeared on the screen of what was presumably Jacob's living room. Although the camera appeared to be on the floor, the picture was surprisingly clear. Jewfro himself walked past the camera, carrying two dolls, one of which was wearing a sweater vest and had dark hair. He passed too quickly for Rachel to see what the other one was, but she supposed she probably didn't want to know.

Nothing happened for a few minutes, and she was about to close the program when Jacob appeared back on screen, opening his front door. Although there was no sound, she assumed the doorbell had rung because he began to talk to someone, althoughbut who it was was blocked from her view. A few seconds later though he threw his arms up happily as someone handed him a large bird cage.

Rachel raised an eyebrow, Jacob's pet parrot was being returned to him. That meant whoever was talking to him was her MySpace admirer. She gasped. They were _right there_.

Her nose practically touching the screen, she willed him to move so she could see who was there. She didn't have to wait long, because when he turned to put the cage down, her view was cleared. Standing on Jacob Ben Israel's doorstep, looking incredibly uncomfortable, was Quinn Fabray.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: hi, sorry for the slightly belated update everyone but halloween pretty much left me for dead. The song in this chapter is the mashup "How six songs collide" by Norwegian Recycling.**

**Also this is the chapter that earns the story its M rating (just about), and it isn't very long and it isn't very good but I'm still going to go and hide forever after this. Thanks for reviews, hope you enjoy this one :)**

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Birds were singing, the sun was shining, and Rachel had found out the identity of the anonymous online friend she'd been talking to for the past month. And not only had she found out, but it had turned out to be the _best_ possible outcome. There was absolutely no way today wouldn't be a good day. She bounced through the corridors searching for the blonde cheerleader, who was proving to be surprisingly elusive, considering normally finding her was just a case of looking out for crowds parting like the red sea. She sidestepped Finn (who was smiling more stupidly than usual) and Puck and Mr Schue (who apparently had some big important thing he wanted to tell her about), and really, most mornings she'd be happy to stop and talk to them (it was important practice for interacting with fans after all) but this morning she was really, _really_ intent on just finding Quinn, and telling her that she knew. As she danced around Santana with an apologetic shrug, she couldn't help grinning to herself, she _knew_. It was _Quinn_. And she probably wouldn't have stopped grinning if she hadn't been unceremoniously hauled into an empty classroom.

Spinning round to give the perpetrator a piece of her mind (not to mention a lesson in politeness), she was stopped immediately by their hand on her mouth.

"You've been looking really cheerful this morning and I really don't want to hear why, what, when or any of that crap so shut up and listen."

Slowly, Santana withdrew her hand. Rachel opened her mouth to argue again though and it was quickly replaced.

"No. What did I say? Shut up. Sit there."

Rachel narrowed her eyes but sat down slowly, and the cheerleader crossed her arms in front of her.

"Okay, good. Now this whole thing with Brittany is pissing me off and I want to like, win her back and stuff, and because we're in Glee club and because Brittany likes that kind of crap that means I'm going to sing to her, and you're going to help me choose the song because if you don't - "

"Hold on a second, Santana, I'm quite - "

"Berry, I know you learned about taking turns in kindergarten. Right now it is my turn to speak and it will be your turn when I've left the room and I'm very far away from you. Like I was saying, if you don't - "

"I'll help you, Santana, there's no need to resort to threats."

Santana narrowed her eyes. "Well. Good. But let's stop calling it you "helping me" right now, and maybe call it, I don't know, you working for me without any pay?"

"So essentially, I'm your slave?" Rachel couldn't stop herself from smirking a little, Santana could say what she liked, she was still asking for her help.

"No, that sounds kind of sexual. Unpaid employee will be fine."

Rachel beamed, already beginning to compile a list of potential song choices in her head. "Excellent. Although I have to say Santana, while I clearly am the most qualified for the role of your _unpaid employee_, I'm a little surprised you came to me. You've never expressed anything more cordial than aloof indifference towards me in the past."

The other girl shrugged, "Yeah, well, your dumb MySpace stalker or whatever made me do it."

"What? Quinn made you? Do you know where she is?"

"Wait. You know it's her?" Santana gave what most people would think of as a genuine smile, "No, but hey, why don't you hold off on telling her for a little while? I mean, she has this grand reveal planned for you...you don't want to spoil her big gesture, do you?"

Rachel chewed her lip contemplatively, "No I suppose not. That would be rude, not to mention I always enjoy grand romantic gestures. No you're right, I'll allow her to believe I'm in the dark for a little longer."

"Awesome. I'll meet you back here at lunch anyway, so we can get this over with."

As she left the room, Santana smirked to herself, this was gonna be _fun_.

xxx

When the lunch period came, Rachel was surprised to see Quinn sitting in the empty classroom where she'd agreed to meet Santana. It was the first time she'd actually seen the girl since finding out it was her behind the complimentary MySpace comments (which was a little ironic, she considered, given the awful comments she used to leave - but the thought was with amusement more than bitterness). While she had to admit that Santana's idea was sound, she was going to find it difficult to hide the knowledge from her, but she supposed Quinn probably really did have a grand reveal of some sort planned, and she wouldn't be surprised if that was the purpose behind the karaoke night she'd invited her to.

"Hi, Quinn," she said with a bright smile as she sat down next to her, "Are you looking forward to _karaoke_ this weekend?"

Keeping this a secret might be more difficult than she thought, she considered, she wasn't exactly well versed in the art of subtlety.

"Huh?" Quinn looked distracted, "I guess. I'm not sure I can make it. Maybe you should take someone else, like, I don't know, Artie."

Rachel frowned. "Why would I want to go with Artie?" her eyes widened when realisation dawned on her suddenly, "Wait, is that what you meant when you said...Quinn, I don't have a crush on - "

"Okay then, two blind mice." Santana breezed in with her usual air of arrogance and bad timing, "Let's hurry this up so I don't have to suffer either of you for very long."

Quinn raised an eyebrow, "Two blind mice? Do these nicknames have any basis in anything, or do you just put random words together?"

Santana gave a condescending smile, "Two blind mice, because neither of you can see what's _right_ in front of you. Now, Berry, tell me what I'm singing."

Rachel was already removing a neatly typed list from her bag, "Well, Santana, while I came up with a number of possibilities, my own personal favourite was one of Taylor Swift's - "

"Absolutely not. Next suggestion."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "What's wrong with Taylor Swift?"

"Wasn't it you who said she was a blonde haired succubus only interested in money and fame and that she didn't have a creative bone in her body?"

"Actually, I think Brittany said that, I just agreed with her. I've changed my mind since then."

Rachel looked between the two cheerleaders, unsure whether to question Santana's hatred of Taylor Swift, Quinn's apparently new found liking of her, or the fact that Brittany knew what a succubus was. Deciding that none of these avenues of conversation would be particularly fruitful, she turned back to her sheet of paper, "Very well, there is a Kelly Clarkson song - "

"No."

"Nickelback?"

Santana looked at Quinn, "Are you kidding me here? Her?"

Quinn glared, "_Santana_, if you keep talking _someone_ might start to guess _something_ I don't want _someone_ to know and then I'd have to tell _everyone_ what age you stopped sleeping with a teddy bear."

Rachel pretended to be reading her paper diligently - had Quinn always been this unsubtle? Finally she interrupted a lengthy glaring contest between the two other girls, "Clearly then, my pop choices are not to your taste. Although I have to say, I think Brittany would have enjoyed them."

"Yes, but Brittany loves me for being me, not because of my ability to choose the worst songs that have sold the most copies."

Quinn leaned back in her chair, "Does she also love the part of you that's an asshole?"

"Clearly not, that's why I have to win her back."

"I have to say, Santana, I hope your treatment of Brittany will improve following this endeavour."

"Well, duh - "

Quinn grinned, "I don't know, Rachel. Maybe we shouldn't even bother helping her."

Santana's eyes narrowed, "You're right, maybe I'll ask Artie instead."

Rachel though, barely picked up on this as a sudden idea occurred to her, "So if you and Brittany have different tastes in music, perhaps there is a way we could incorporate them both. I think this situation definitely calls for a - "

"If you say mashup I'm going to hit you."

Rachel smiled, "Just leave it to me."

xxx

Mr Schue sighed as he paced the halls. He had to hand it to them, for people who got up on stage and sang, danced and generally made themselves very noticeable, the Glee club were incredibly good at making themselves scarce when they wanted to. The only member he'd been able to track down was Brittany, and she'd been too busy trying to explain to another Cheerio the basic ideas behind string theory ("everything is hanging from the sky on an invisible string, like puppets") that she hadn't listened to him at all. After pacing the corridors for half of his lunch break, he finally gave in and decided he may as well enjoy a cup of coffee in the teacher's lounge and feel sorry for himself about Emma. As he turned to make his way there however, he nearly walked into Rachel, grinned manically up at him.

He should have known, really, she was always there right when you kind of wished she wasn't.

"Hello, Mr Schue." she began, at full speed as always, "If you have some time I have a favour I'd like to ask you - "

"Uh, yeah, sure, Rachel. But first you have to help me out a little, Coach Sylvester wants the Glee club to perform something for her tomorrow afternoon - to prove we're not plotting something...I don't know...after the whole thing with Mike, and American Idol...she seems to think... Okay, to be honest, I don't really know what she thinks, but we still have to sing for her. So can you let everybody else know? We can just pull out "Don't Stop Believing" or something, that song never gets old."

Rachel smiled, "That actually works out _perfectly_. After we've done that, perhaps we can perform the number I'd like you to help us with..."

xxx

**MySpace Fan**: I've decided I don't care if you like someone else and we should still talk to each other.  
**Rachel**: Are you still planning on pursuing me?  
**MySpace Fan**: Yes.  
**Rachel**: That's very courageous of you.  
**MySpace Fan**: Not really, Santana seems to think I still have a shot.  
**Rachel**: That seems brave to me.  
**MySpace Fan**: I'm not.

In her bedroom, Rachel frowned. She wasn't sure there were many people who would argue Quinn wasn't brave, except, apparently, Quinn herself. She didn't have much time to disagree though, before another message came.

**MySpace Fan**: If I was brave I would just kiss you how I want to.

She was about to question the grammar of "how I want to" when she realised.

**Rachel**: You want to kiss me?

Quinn had said things like this to her before, but somehow, it was different when she knew who it was. Different when she knew it was Quinn sitting behind a keyboard somewhere, thinking about kissing_ her_. God, Quinn Fabray wanted to kiss her.

**MySpace Fan**: It's pretty much all I think about.

Rachel bit her lip, she could relate to _that_.

**MySpace Fan**: Well, not quite all.

She frowned, wondering if that clarification was really needed. After all, kissing her couldn't take up the entirety of Quinn's thoughts, she still had to think about Glee, homework, as well as trivialities like eating and sleeping. Even Rachel, whose mind tended to become incredibly focused when she particularly wanted something, couldn't think about Quinn constantly, so _of course_ - wait.

**Rachel**: Um, what else do you think about?

It wasn't like she hadn't thought about Quinn like _that_ before, because she had (she _really_ had) but it was different, knowing Quinn might want her in the same way. It was Quinn Fabray and she could have _anyone_ but (Rachel clenched her bedsheets underneath her fingers) she might want _her_.

**MySpace Fan**: I can't tell you that, I told you I'm not brave.  
**Rachel**: Tell me. Be brave.  
**MySpace Fan**: I don't know, what do you want me to say? That I watch you in Glee club and it drives me insane seeing you dancing the way you do? That I used to watch you while you were with Finn and it drove me insane knowing that he got to hold you and touch you and I could never touch you like that?

Rachel gulped, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. She was pretty sure that she would never be able to sing in Glee again without feeling Quinn's eyes on her, and knowing what she was thinking, knowing that she was thinking about...

It wasn't as if Rachel hadn't been in this very bed, imagining Quinn was there with her, imagining Quinn out of her Cheerios uniform and both of them stripped down so it was just _Quinn and Rachel_, and Quinn's hair loose across the pillow and Quinn smiling up at her while Rachel -

**Rachel**: How do you want to touch me?  
**MySpace Fan**: I just really...I don't know...I really want to hear you breathing in my ear, and gasping like you want me.

In her room, Rachel gasped too, in her mind all she could see was Quinn above her, and Quinn's hair loose around her and Quinn smiling down at her while Rachel ran her fingers over her stomach and Quinn's hands on her -

**Rachel**: What else?  
**MySpace Fan**: I guess I see you in those short skirts and all I can think about is what's underneath, and imagine you in my bed and you're naked and asking me to touch you there and I do it because you're beautiful and you're mine.

Rachel's eyes were half closed and in her head her fingertips were digging into Quinn's bare back and Quinn was grinning at her because she knew just how _badly_ Rachel wanted her because Rachel was whispering "please" and then Quinn's fingers were moving down to -

**Rachel**: What then?**  
MySpace Fan**: You'd be wet for me, and it'd be different to anything ever before, because Rachel Berry would be underneath me and it would be me making her tremble and moan, and my name she'd be saying and God, you'd feel so good.

It would be Quinn's name on her lips and Quinn's lips on her breast and Quinn's fingers moving inside her until -

**MySpace Fan**: Was that what you wanted me to say?  
**Rachel**: Yeah. Exactly that.

xxx

"Hi, Rachel." Finn grinned down at her, "Guess what?"

She craned her neck back to look up at him, "I don't know, Finn."

"Maybe he's finally stopped growing,"

"The Jolly Green Giant stop growing? No, it'll never happen."

Rachel looked in surprise at Santana and Quinn, they seemed to have a skill for appearing suddenly. Finn looked a little alarmed too, "I know I'm kinda happy, and I'm tall, but how am I green?"

"Your mom recycles doesn't she?" Santana said, crossing her arms over her chest.

This seems to satisfy him, "I guess she does. Anyway, like I was saying Rachel, Amy's back!"

"Is that the girl who tried to punch us? Are we supposed to be happy about this?" Quinn looked at Finn incredulously.

"Apparently it's kind of implausible for her to just get shipped off to military school because her parents felt like it." he said cheerfully.

Santana rolled her eyes, looking at Rachel, "You dated this guy _all _summer? Really?"

Rachel huffed indignantly, "Yes, but as I recall you slept with him, Santana, and you," she pointed at Quinn, "Dated him for far longer than me."

Santana sighed, "This conversation is dumb. Finn, no one cares about your psycho girlfriend, now run along, I think I heard an ice cream truck."

He lumbered off, with a mutter of "ooh, really?", and Rachel was treated to the eyes of the two most intimidating girls in school turning on her at the same time. Not that Rachel Berry could be intimidated, especially not when she saw Quinn glancing very quickly at what happened to be Rachel's shortest skirt (which after the night before, was a _complete_ coincidence). And after last night, Rachel was maybe a little more appreciative than usual of the Cheerios uniform...

"Okay," Santana said, looking between them, "Let's hurry this up before I throw up on both of you. Berry, what am I singing and when?"

"I took the liberty of emailing the sheet music to you last night, we'll practice at lunch and perform it this afternoon after we've finished Coach Sylvester's performance."

"Woah," Santana held up a hand, "That won't work, Sylvester's still on this big kick to make us good, Jesus-abiding teenagers because of the crappy church that's sponsoring us. No way will she go for the second row of her pyramid coming out of the closet hand in hand."

Quinn shrugged, "So we'll wait until she's left."

Rachel beamed, and Santana allowed herself a small smile before she realised, " - wait, Berry, how did you get my email address?"

xxx

As the Glee club stood panting on the stage after (yet another) heartfelt rendition of "Don't Stop Believing", Mr Schue looked at Sue with a smile. "There," he said, "Are you satisfied we're not engaged in anything sinister?"

Sue grimaced, "After watching that crime against nature, I'd never say I was "satisfied". But I at least believe you won't be usurping my American Idol glory any time soon."

Will looked confused, "You're entering American Idol, Sue?"

"That's none of your business, William. Thank you for your time, and please be aware it could take up to forty-eight hours to call off my court-appointed hit man."

Will stared at her retreating back, Becky in tow, until the doors to the auditorium slammed shut behind them.

"Okay!" he said, clapping his hands brightly as he turned back around, "Great job you guys, I guess you can grab your stuff - "

"Actually, Mr Schuester," Rachel said, approaching the front of the stage, "As you know Santana has a special performance she'd like to give to a particularly _special_ person, if you would all like to stay and watch. It's a mashup that Mr Schue kindly helped us with."

The Glee club glanced around at each other, and seemed to reach a general consensus of "my mom isn't picking me up for another twenty minutes anyway, we might as well watch", a few of them nudging and winking at Brittany, who mostly just seemed a little confused. In a slow shuffle though, they made their way off the stage and settled themselves in the seats in front of it, aside from Quinn and Rachel, who stayed for backing vocals purposes.

"Uh," Santana looked nervous, "So, um..."

Rachel took over for her, and gestured at Brad and Puck who had been commandeered for their instrumental usefulness (both Puck and Sam seemed relieved to be released from the duty of getting between Brittany and Santana).

Santana, faced with most of the Glee club in front of her, as well as, of course, _Brittany_, seemed to freeze. Apparently it was one thing to perform in front of hundreds of people at a national cheerleading competition, but quite another to sing your feelings to the girl everyone knew you were in love with (everyone except her, that is).

Quinn came to stand next to her and put a hand on her shoulder, "Take a deep breath," she murmured, quietly enough that no one except Santana and Rachel could hear, "Be brave."

Rachel smiled a little, and gestured at Puck and Brad to start playing over again, as Santana took a deep breath and nodded.

"I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted,  
I fell right through the cracks, but I'm trying to get back."

Quietly, Amy slid into the seat next to Finn, and he grinned and put his arm around her.

"I worry I won't see your face light up again,  
Even the best fall down sometimes,  
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme."

Brittany stared up at Santana with a small smile on her face, even as Santana seemed utterly unable to look directly at her.

"There you were, standing in front of my eyes,  
How could I be such a fool,  
To let go of love and break all the rules."

Mercedes turned, confused as Brittany nudged her, "She said this was for someone special," the blonde girl whispered, "Who is she singing to?"

"I'm here without you baby,  
But you're still with me in my dreams,  
And tonight I'm yours."

Laughing a little, Mercedes said, "You, you idiot. This is for you."

"I was lost and alone but you're still on my lonely mind,  
It cannot wait I'm yours,  
I can't stand to fly,  
You finally find, you and I collide."

As the song finished, Brittany stood up and approached the stage slowly. "That was for me?" she asked.

Gulping, Santana nodded mutely.

Brittany bit her lip, "Colliding sounds like it would hurt."

Santana laughed breathlessly, "I don't want to hurt you any more."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Rachel turned her head just in time to catch Quinn's eye, and in her seat, Amy was smiling.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So this chapter is way on the short side (it was actually going to be even shorter but it got padded out, I think it's probably pretty obvious where the padding is). Hope it's okay anyway, thanks again for reviews :)**

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_"I don't know what it is about you," Quinn's mouth was against her ear, raising goosebumps on her skin, "But I can't stop wanting you."_

_Sitting on the edge of the bed, Rachel reached out to try and pull Quinn's mouth to hers, but the girl sidestepped her with a smile and crossed the room to place her iPod on the speakers. Within a few seconds the sound of Marvin Gaye filled the room, and Quinn moved slowly toward -_

Rachel opened her eyes. Marvin Gaye? Even in her head she couldn't pretend Quinn was a Marvin Gaye fan. Not to mention she wasn't sure she'd be able to achieve the soft lighting she'd had in her fantasy in her actual bedroom. Maybe Quinn had a dimmer switch in her room...

Never mind, she'd just have to revert to a more tried and tested daydream.

_Quinn was leaning against the piano with a small smile. Rachel stared around the empty room - when Quinn had asked to meet her here she'd assumed there'd be other Glee club members present, but they were clearly very alone, and Quinn had a very...predatory look on her face._

_She cleared her throat, "Um, what did you want to talk to me about?"_

_Quinn's eyes drifted slowly up her body, "I was wondering if you'd like to do a duet with me."_

_Rachel bit her lip, "Certainly. Was there any particular song you had in mind?"_

_From nowhere, the Bloodhound Gang began to play, and Quinn started to sing, "You and me baby ain't nothing but mammals..."_

Rachel opened her eyes again. Where had that come from? That song was definitely not sexy. At that part of the fantasy Quinn usually started singing "Your Body is a Wonderland" and ripping her clothes off. She sighed, clearly if she wasn't going to be able to construct a _plausible_ scenario in her mind, she'd just have to skip straight to the good stuff.

_Quinn was on the hood of her car, naked and panting as Rachel grazed her teeth across her neck. "Jesus, Rach," she gasped out as fingers met her nipple. The metal of the car was cold under Rachel's knees, but Quinn was hot and grasping at her._

_"Rachel," Quinn panted, even as she was interrupted by Rachel kissing her, one hand on her thigh and moving slowly upwards, "Rachel," Quinn managed to get out eventually, "We have to hurry or we'll be late for your début performance as Elphaba in Wicked."_

_"I don't care," she muttered, moving her mouth down to bite softly at her collar bone, her fingernails on the inside of Quinn's thigh as the other girl quivered beneath her._

_"God - " she gasped, "Rach - "_

"Rachel! Dinner's ready, get down here."

Rachel took her hand from her underwear with a frustrated groan. Her dad had the worst possible timing.

xxx

"Hey, Rachel." Quinn appeared next to her locker with a bright smile, "Looking forward to karaoke this weekend?"

Rachel beamed, "Very much so, I've already been considering potential song choices that I think will be appropriate for the audience. There's one song by girl band t.A.T.u which I think would be particularly appropriate."

Quinn laughed, "Okay, well just remember it's held next to the Lima retirement home, there's only so much their pacemakers can stand."

As Rachel's face fell, Quinn shook her head and took her books from her with a smile, "Come on, I'll walk you to class."

Rachel toyed with the idea of trying to continue being disappointed, but she found it was pretty difficult when Quinn was grinning at her like that.

xxx

Rachel entered the Glee practice room later to find Sam holding back a struggling Santana, who appeared to be trying to claw Finn's eyes out.

"You! Your fucking girlfriend!" she was screaming.

"Santana," Finn held his hands up, "I don't even know what you're talking about!"

Rachel skirted around them with a frown and stood next to Quinn, "What's going on?" she whispered to the cheerleader.

Quinn shrugged, "No one's really sure, but they've been doing this for the past ten minutes. Kurt bet Tina ten dollars that Sam's going to get tired and drop her and she'll kick them both in the crotch, I'm pretty sure she'll escape before she gets dropped though."

Rachel turned to look at her in horror, "This is awful! Shouldn't we be trying to - are you eating popcorn? Where did you get that?"

"Mercedes brought it, do you want some?"

"Quinn!" she exclaimed, "We should be trying to stop this, not watching like spectators at a Roman gladiator match."

"Rachel." Quinn put a calming hand on her waist, "If any of us try to intervene she'll just get mad at us too, we already called Brittany and she'll be here soon. It'll be fine."

"Well," the smaller girl replied, somewhat pacified, "In that case then I wouldn't mind accepting your offer of popcorn. Although I still think this is wrong. Is it salted or sweet?"

xxx

Finn sat down next to her heavily as they waited for their teacher to arrive in English class. Rachel glanced at him from the corner of her eye. She liked Finn, she really did, but he did have the tendency to only seek her out when he wanted to complain about Amy or school or the door frames he kept hitting his head on. Admittedly she did only tend to find him when she wanted his help with something, but she supposed that's what made their friendship. As such, she decided to humour him.

"Are you okay, Finn?"

He looked at her fearfully, "I haven't been able to find Amy all day, I'm pretty sure Santana broke into her house last night and murdered her."

Rachel rolled her eyes, "Don't be silly Finn," she said dismissively, "Santana isn't really as violent as she'd like everyone to believe. She's all bark with no bite." she reconsidered this, "Well, she's possibly more like 60% bark and 40% bite, but nevertheless, my point still stands. May I ask what Amy did to make Santana so angry in the first place?"

Finn looked surprised, "You didn't hear? She got Santana and Brittany kicked off the Cheerios."

xxx

Over the past week Rachel had become accustomed to Quinn appearing suddenly throughout the day, or tracking the cheerleader down herself, to walk to class or Glee club or eat lunch with her. That day however she was nowhere to be found, and by the end of the day she was almost certain she was being avoided.

Crossing the parking lot on her way home however, she heard Santana's raised voice, and looked over to see Santana, Brittany and Quinn talking by the latter girl's car.

She slowly approached them, although it wasn't really necessary as Santana was talking loud enough to be heard by almost everyone still remaining at school.

"Are you kidding me? You can't help us out?" she was saying, "We're supposed to be fucking friends."

Rachel couldn't hear what Quinn's answer was, but she looked upset as she stared down at the ground.

Santana threw her arms in the air, "Sylvester would listen to you. You know that." her voice lowered a little, finally, as she added, "This isn't fair, you know it isn't fair."

Quinn just shrugged though, and as Rachel neared them, Brittany tugged Santana away, the other girl's fists clenched in anger.

"Quinn..." Rachel said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Are you okay? What's going on?"

The cheerleader leaned into her touch a little, sighing deeply, "Amy told Sylvester about Santana and Brittany, and with this whole church sponsorship thing...well, they got kicked off the squad."

Rachel frowned, moving to put her arm around the other girl, trying not to silently delight at their closeness when the other girl was so obviously upset, "That doesn't seem fair. I don't understand why Santana is angry at you though."

Quinn's arm slipped around her waist and her fingers grasped at the side of her sweater, Rachel barely dared to breath in case it made Quinn move. "She wants me to talk Sylvester into getting them back on the squad."

Engrossed in wondering if she dared to hold Quinn's hand, Rachel managed to reply, "But you could do that, couldn't you? Coach Sylvester would listen to you."

Quinn sighed, and Rachel felt it against her cheek, "I can't risk my place on the squad again. Not after last year. Not when..."

The girl made a vague motion with her hand, and Rachel looked up in surprise and disappointment as Quinn moved away from her altogether, leaning against her car instead. "Sylvester talked to me as well today." She stared at the car keys in her hand, not looking at Rachel, "She said that Amy seems to think there's something going on between you and me too. She said I might be her head cheerleader but she can't risk this sponsorship deal," she gave a short humourless laugh, "It turns out this creepy church is pretty dead set against homosexuality."

Rachel frowned, "But that's ridiculous. There are other sponsors, other churches even, who wouldn't care at all. Shall I speak to my dads? I could contact the ACLU and - "

"I can't risk it, Rachel." Quinn said sharply, standing up straight, "It just means we probably shouldn't see each other outside of school or anything. Not that it matters, obviously," she cleared her throat, "We're just friends. We don't want to raise any suspicions though."

Rachel watched as Quinn climbed into her car, slamming the door behind her. They were just friends.

xxx

**Rachel**: Can we talk?  
**Rachel**: Will you speak to me please?

Rachel waited all evening, but there was no reply.

xxx

It was strange, Rachel thought, sitting in the practice room during Glee, seeing Santana and Brittany out of their Cheerios uniforms. They looked a little uncomfortable themselves, used to the barrier their position provided. Mr Schue was talking about something, but nobody seemed to be concentrating very much, and Quinn wasn't there at all.

Finally, fifteen minutes later and when everyone was beginning to despair that Mr Schue would never stop talking, the head cheerleader arrived, looking nervous.

"Oh good," Santana said loudly, "I was just thinking that what this practice really needs is a huge fucking bitch."

"Santana," Mr Schue reprimanded, "No-one is a bitch. Quinn, take a seat. Honestly guys, if we really want to win at Sectionals, you're going to have to learn to get along and - "

"Actually, Mr Schuester," Quinn said, looking up finally, "I am a bitch."

There were several mutters of "what?" and "this rehearsal finally got interesting", and Schue looked like he wanted to interrupt, but Quinn continued, "I mean, let's think about it, really. For years I was horrible to people who ended up being good friends to me, and I never really apologised for it, I treated two boyfriends pretty crappily, then I let down someone I really like. Liked." she glanced back at the floor, "Not now, someone in the past." she took a deep breath and continued, "Yeah. And now I screwed over two of my best friends, one of them not even for the first time, and I'm not fixing it, when I could, because I'm not only a bitch, but I'm a coward too."

There was a stunned silence following her outburst, the Glee club members glancing at each other in confusion. Santana was clenching Brittany's hand in her lap.

"I'm going to go," Quinn said eventually, "Yeah. Sorry for interrupting. I'm going to leave." She turned and went, and Rachel only waited a few seconds after the door clicked shut before rushing out of the room after her.

"Quinn!" she shouted as she raced after her, "Quinn!"

Quinn slowed to a halt and turned, "You had to run to keep up, Berry?" she gave a half smile, "I guess your legs are a lot shorter than mine."

Rachel rolled her eyes, "Where are you going?"

Quinn shrugged, gesturing vaguely at the exit, "Home. What do you want?"

"Don't you think you should go talk to Coach Sylvester?"

The cheerleader's eyes narrowed, "I can't, Rachel, I've already explained. Don't you listen? Why did you even follow me?"

Rachel placed a gentle hand on the taller girl's arm, "You're the one who doesn't listen, Quinn. How many times am I going to have to tell you that you aren't a coward?"

Quinn's eyes widened in surprise and Rachel gave a small smile, "Be brave."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hi, this is the second last chapter. So that's sad :( I hope you like this chapter anyway.**

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Rachel sighed as she turned another page of her newest autograph book, signing her well practised signature again. She had made it quite clear to Quinn that she knew she was the MySpace admirer, and yet the girl had hurried away as quickly as she could. She put down the pen for a moment to flex her aching fingers - while it was important to practice signing many autographs in a row, the activity really could be tiring at times. What was Quinn _doing_? She hadn't seemed angry, just said she had to go and then left. Perhaps, Rachel thought with a shy smile, she was planning a grand gesture which required all of her time to prepare.

This theory was quickly dispensed with however when a familiar noise from her laptop told her she'd received a new instant message.

**MySpace Fan**: Hi, how are you?  
**Rachel**: Hello. Can't you change your name now we both know who you are?  
**MySpace Fan**: What do you mean you know who I am?  
**Rachel**: Come on, Quinn.  
**MySpace Fan**: Quinn? I'm not Quinn.

Rachel pouted. Perhaps Quinn would need some inspiration.

xxx

She spent most of the morning skulking outside of Sue Sylvester's office. She was pretty sure Quinn was in there since she'd overheard Brittany telling Santana about some kind of plot to clone them both and put the clones on the Cheerios instead, not to mention Becky had come to check on her occasionally and inform her "Coach Sylvester is not taking visitors currently as she's in a council of war". Still though, Rachel was beginning to wonder what exactly could take so long (then again it was Sue Sylvester, almost anything could be going on in there).

Finally Quinn emerged, looking pale but otherwise triumphant. Rachel quickly busied herself with pretending to be engrossed in reading a vastly inaccurate poster detailing the dangers of smoking (while she wasn't entirely sure, she suspected it wasn't one of the main causes of homosexual offspring). Making a mental note to contact Figgins regarding this, she held her breath as Quinn stopped behind her.

"Rachel." Quinn sounded amused. Rachel took a few seconds to decided whether she wanted to turn around or continue to pretend she wasn't here.

"Oh!" she finally span round, suddenly thankful for her years of acting lessons, "Hello, Quinn, I certainly didn't expect to run into you here! What a coincidence!"

Quinn did an excellent impression of someone who had just believed what she'd heard and wasn't trying not to laugh, Rachel thought. "Yeah, that's a really big coincidence So, what does bring you to this part of the school? Since you obviously weren't waiting outside all morning for me to come out, I mean."

"I've been waiting much longer than that for you to come out, Quinn."

Quinn's mouth dropped open, "Was that a joke? Rachel Berry told a joke? And it wasn't even that bad? Santana is never going to believe this."

Rachel rolled her eyes, "I can be funny."

"Yeah, but you're funny in the same way a puppy is when it runs into a glass door and gets confused."

"Was that a compliment?" Rachel frowned, "Or were you making fun of me? I can't tell."

Quinn laughed, "See - puppy, glass door. Are you going to tell me what you're doing here anyway?"

Rachel straightened her shoulders, deciding she'd have to consider this "puppy" issue more later (what if Quinn was really a cat person?), "Okay, I admit," she said, as if a great confession was being made, "I wanted to see if you were talking Coach Sylvester into letting Brittany and Santana back on to the Cheerios squad."

"Oh, were you? I would never have guessed." the cheerleader rolled her eyes, "Yes, I was."

Rachel beamed, "Excellent! What did she say? How did you convince her?"

Quinn frowned as if deep in thought, "How did I convince her? Um, let's see." she stroked her chin, "I think I said that this was ridiculous, and I was through with playing by the rules of someone else's game. I pointed out that we're so close to our next competition, it was too late for second-guessing, and too late to go back to sleep. I don't really know why I said that. Then I told her she should trust her instincts, close her eyes and leap. I think what really persuaded her was when I mentioned defying gravity."

"That sounds oddly familiar."

"Is that because you emailed me the song three times last night?"

"I wanted to make sure you got it!"

Quinn shook her head, "Well, thanks. I actually just told her that we couldn't afford to lose our two best dancers, and that the fact they're sleeping with each other is actually none of our sponsor's business. I think she agreed because she realised I was willing to wait in her office all day if I had to."

Rachel smiled, "That was brave of you."

Quinn shrugged, "More stubborn. I just wanted Santana to stop spitting at me."

"I still think it was brave," Rachel said, defiantly, "Isn't there something else you have to tell me?"

"Oh!" Quinn grinned, "You mean about MySpace?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, did you hear they're probably going to have to shut down?"

As Quinn walked away with a laugh, her Cheerios skirt swaying as she went, Rachel stared after her in disbelief.

"They're going to close down?" she called, "But what about my videos?"

xxx

Rachel watched Finn devouring his lunch as fast as he could, suddenly nauseated at the thought of eating her own food.

"Do you have to eat like that?" she asked, grimacing.

"Yeah," he nodded, his mouth full of half-chewed sandwich, "Its got bacon in it, and if Quinn sees she'll make me give her some."

As if on cue, Quinn appeared, putting her lunch down next to Rachel. Her lip curled in disgust, "No one wants to see you digest, Finn, close your mouth. And give me half of your sandwich, you can have my salad."

Finn barely had time to react before he was staring in dismay at the salad his sandwich had been replaced with. Rachel grinned at the two of them, surprised still that in just a few short weeks she'd gone from eating lunch alone to being invited to sit with them. True, Finn used to invite her to sit with him anyway, but watching him eat was only really worth it when there was the potential of a pretty blonde cheerleader coming to sit with you.

"Anyway, as I was saying," she said suddenly to Finn, who looked utterly confused, "I've found out who my online friend is."

He frowned, poking at his salad with a fork, "I know, you already told me ten minutes ago."

Rachel barely heard him, she was too busy staring at Quinn out of the corner of her eye. The other girl seemed to be smirking into her water bottle.

"So who is it?" the cheerleader asked, smiling widely, "This online friend?"

Rachel pouted, "You are. It's you. You know that, why are you denying it?"

Quinn's eyes widened, "_Me_? You think _I'm_ your internet friend? I don't know what you're talking about. Finn, do you know what she's talking about?"

Finn looked bewildered, "I have no clue what anyone's talking about. I'm going to see if Kurt will trade me his chocolate milk for this salad."

Staring after him as he got up and approached the table where Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Mike were eating, Rachel asked, "Is this really what happens in the school cafeteria? Everyone trades lunches like in elementary school?"

"Yep," Santana said, standing over Rachel and blocking her line of vision, "Unless you're me, then I just take what I want." she took a bite of Rachel's apple just to prove her point, and then set it back in front of her. Rachel looked down at it sadly - between watching Finn eat and having her food stolen, chewed, and returned to her, she was beginning to prefer eating alone.

"Hey, Santana." Quinn said, and Rachel was reminded immediately that no, she didn't prefer eating alone.

"Hi." Santana said. Rachel look at Quinn, then back at Santana. They both seemed to be trying to think of a way to segue into normal conversation, when Brittany came to stand next to Santana, clutching a colouring book and marker pens.

"Did you tell her?" she asked Santana, poking her in the ribs.

"Do I have to?"

Brittany rolled her eyes, and turn to Quinn with a bright smile, "Thanks for getting us back on the Cheerios, Quinn. Santana says thank you too."

"Although it did take you a while." the other girl muttered, earning herself a sharp elbow in the ribs.

Quinn opened her mouth to protest the last comment, until Rachel nudged her, and she simply smiled and said, "That's okay, it was the least I could do."

Santana and Quinn rolled their eyes and shared looks of disdain at Rachel and Brittany's smiles, "Hey, Rachel," Brittany said, "You want to colour with me?"

xxx

Rachel leaned over very slowly, attempting to be as subtle as possible as Quinn played on her phone, if she could just reach a little further she could probably see -

"Berry, do you really think if I was your dumb MySpace friend then I'd do it in front of you?"

Rachel returned to her seat with a sigh. From across the rehearsal room Santana glared at them, "Will you two give it up and jump each others bones already? All this sexual tension is making me want to throw up."

Quinn adopted a look of pure innocence, "Sexual tension? I don't know what you're talking about, Santana. Rachel seems to have got the idea that I'm the person she's been talking to online, which is crazy, right?"

"But you are!" Rachel yelled, "It is you! I know it is!" she stamped her foot in indignation, and Santana grinned widely.

"Wow, this is _fun_."

xxx

**Rachel**: Please just admit that you're Quinn.  
**MySpace Fan**: But I'm not.  
**Rachel**: Fine, but I want you to be aware that I can be very devious when I have a point I want to prove.  
**MySpace Fan**: Has anyone ever told you that you're a little like a puppy when it runs into a glass door?  
**Rachel**: !Yes, Quinn has! She said that this morning!  
**MySpace Fan**: Did she? What a coincidence

xxx

All morning Rachel followed Quinn through the halls, hoping to catch a glimpse, or any kind of indication that would prove Quinn was her MySpace fan, but the girls daily routine seemed to be perfectly normal, and since by lunch she was beginning to feel a little creepy, she decided, mournfully, that she would have to accept the cheerleader wasn't going to admit to it. She wasn't sure _why_ she wasn't admitting to it, since it was completely obvious that it was her, but short of stealing Quinn's phone or breaking into her house to look at her computer, there wasn't much she could do.

She couldn't break into her house, could she?

No, that was ridiculous.

Unless...

No, she definitely couldn't break into Quinn's house. That was taking things too far.

As she opened her locker however, she was surprised to find a bouquet of flowers inside, although they were beginning to droop and looked in dire need of a little water. "You'll never find me," the card read, "-your MySpace Admirer".

xxx

Rachel slammed the card down in front of Quinn triumphantly. "Ah ha!" she shouted, as a few other students in the classroom turned around to look at her curiously.

Quinn seemed a little embarrassed, "Rachel, you aren't even in this class." she said, staring around as the onlookers slowly lost interest. "My teacher will be here soon, why are you here?"

Rachel tapped at the card insistently, "This is from you." she said, "I called the company on the card and they confirmed it, you bought me flowers with this card attached."

Raising one eyebrow, Quinn picked the card up, "You called the company and they gave me your name? Rachel, I'm not your "MySpace Admirer", which is a ridiculous name by the way, but if I was, do you think I'd be stupid enough to use my own name when I bought you gifts?"

Rachel sagged visibly, "Okay fine, they didn't give me your name. They didn't give me any name, they said it was customer-florist confidentiality."

Sliding the card back across the desk, the cheerleader smiled sympathetically, "Give it up, Rach, I'm not your internet friend."

Rachel was about to argue, but Quinn's teacher arrived, and seemed very ready to give her detention if she stayed much longer.

xxx

"Santana!"

In the locker room after Cheerios practice, Santana covered herself with a t-shirt hurriedly.

"What the hell are you doing in here, Berry? This is the Cheerios locker room, and last time I checked hell hasn't frozen over so you're not a Cheerio. And we're changing. Get out."

Rachel wasn't exactly sure how this was relevant, since her hand had been covering her eyes since the moment she stepped into the room and realised everyone in there was half naked, but she pressed on anyway, daring to sneak a peek between her fingers to make sure Quinn wasn't there first.

"Santana please, this won't take long. You said that Quinn was my MySpace friend, didn't you?"

Rachel could almost hear Santana's smirk. "Uh, you know, I'm not sure I did, my memory is pretty hazy about the whole thing. Who's Quinn again?"

"Hi, Rachel!"

Rachel dared to peer from between her fingers again to see Brittany, who appeared to be completely naked, standing behind Santana. "Hi, Brittany. Why are you naked?"

"I just showered," the girl sounded puzzled, "If I put my clothes on now they'd get wet. Is San antagonamising you?"

"Antagonising, B." Santana murmured, "And go get a towel."

Rachel was regretting coming in here intensely, and wondering if she could make a hasty exit and pretend this never happened.

"Rachel? Why are you in here?"

Oh God, it was Quinn. What if _she_ wasn't wearing clothes? Rachel was pretty sure she'd collapse, she didn't dare look.

"Uh, hi, Quinn." she said, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous she probably looked, her hand pressing into her eyes and clutching a folder full of sheet music, "I was just...looking for..."

"I know what you were doing, Rach. Give me a few minutes to get changed and I'll meet you outside, okay?"

"Okay." Rachel squeaked, scurrying out thankfully.

She waited near the locker room, pretending to read her sheet music as various Cheerios passed her on their way out of school with a sneer. Rachel Berry didn't get embarrassed, but she couldn't help wondering if Quinn thought she went in there hoping to catch a glimpse of her changing. That would have been _nice_, sure, but she really hadn't. She hadn't even really thought about the fact they might not be dressed, and now she probably looked like some kind of pervert...

"Rachel." Quinn said, touching her arm gently. "Do you want a ride home?"

Stuffing the paper back into her folder, Rachel nodded frantically, "Yes. That would be nice. I want to explain that I only went into the Cheerios locker room to talk to Santana, and it didn't cross my mind that she might only be half dressed, let alone that Brittany would be_ naked_ and..."

"Rachel." Quinn said again, smiling at the girls outburst, "It's okay. You should probably never go in there again, but it's okay. Come on."

They crossed the parking lot in silence, and Quinn opened the passenger door of her car for Rachel without saying a word.

"You're quite the gentleman, Quinn."

"I, uh - " she looked confused, "Is that a good thing?"

Rachel laughed, "Of course it's a good thing."

Sitting in the drivers seat, Quinn looked across at her, "Hey, Rachel, you know your internet friend?"

"Yes." Rachel frowned.

"You know they've probably been planning this big thing to reveal it to you, to make it special and stuff."

Quinn's hand edged across the centre console to grasp Rachel's in her own. "Are we still going to karaoke tomorrow night?"

Staring down at their linked hands, Rachel grinned, "Yes." she said, "Of course."

Quinn glanced at her with a smile and squeezed her hand, before she withdrew it to start the car and take Rachel home.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: this is the last chapter :'( and since I finished the way I spent the rest of the story, it's later than I promised it, so sorry for that.  
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**A couple of people have asked me if there's any chance of a sequel for this, so if anyone else is wondering the answer is a very, _very _tentative maybe. If a decent enough story for a sequel presents itself, I'll probably write it, but it's much more likely I'll just write something else.**

**Anyway, thank you everyone who commented/read this story, I enjoyed writing it a lot and I'm glad you guys enjoyed it too :) Hopefully the last chapter isn't a huge let down...**

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In front of her mirror, Rachel brushed her hair out slowly, and adjusted her blouse. She knew Quinn didn't usually like the clothes she wore to school, but she hoped she'd approve of the outfit she'd picked out for tonight. Normally, of course, she would wear whichever costume she felt was most appropriate to the song she planned to sing at karaoke, but she had rather more important things on her mind today. Namely,_ impressing Quinn Fabray_. Her fathers had tried to reassure her of course - Quinn wouldn't have gone to all this effort with her if she hadn't already been quite taken with Rachel, but she still couldn't help worrying. This was the first time they were going to meet outside of school, and the longest amount of time they'd ever spent alone. Coupled with her nervousness though, was the excitement of wondering just _what_ Quinn had planned for her.

"Rachel," her dad yelled up the stairs, "Quinn's car just pulled up outside, hurry up and get down here or we're going to make toaster oven jokes."

Rachel yelped in horror, smoothed her skirt one last time, and hurried downstairs.

xxx

Lima karaoke night was held in a local church community centre, decorated for the occasion with streamers and balloons and a large banner proclaiming the "Annual Lima Karaoke Sensation". At the front of the room there was a small stage with a microphone and screen for the performers - although Quinn would later dispute that people who came to an event exclusively for karaoke could be called that, much to Rachel's annoyance.

"Well," Quinn said as they entered, "I expected it to be lame, but I didn't expect it to be this lame."

Rachel nudged her indignantly, "Don't say that, it's the singing that counts."

Quinn found herself being dragged across the room to pour over the potential song selection for the evening.

"What are you thinking of singing?" Rachel asked her, giving a small smile, "Anything _surprising_?"

Quinn shrugged, "If I am, I want it to stay a surprise."

She went to take a seat as Rachel gave a list of her song choices to the nervous looking man running the event, and from what Quinn could see she appeared to give him a detailed reason behind each song she'd chosen as well. The poor "DJ", as he was being referred to, had better gain a little confidence, Quinn thought, if he planned on dealing with Rachel all night. Soon the other girl sat next to her though, looking pleased with herself, "While the choice of songs available was inadequate, to say the least, I feel confident I can win."

Quinn frowned, "Rach, I don't think it's a competition, it's supposed to be - "

She was interrupted however by the loud screech of microphone static as the nervous man stood on stage, now with an elderly lady, who was presumably the first singer. "Uh, okay." he said, "Well we're going to begin now, and to start us off - " the rest of his sentence was lost in another blast of feedback from the speakers, so all that could be heard was, "the Streisand classic, _Don't Rain on my Parade_."

Quinn looked down at her knees. Did she dare look at Rachel? No, even _Rachel Berry_ wasn't insane enough to want to compete with an old lady at a church karaoke night. She took a deep breath and glanced to her left. Rachel's eyes were narrowed, her teeth gritted, her nostrils flaring. She turned back to the stage. This was going to go well.

xxx

Rachel looked triumphant as she departed the stage, "I think it's safe to say I won that little encounter." she said with a grin.

Quinn couldn't help but laugh at her, "I really don't think it's a contest, Rachel. Everyone just wants to sing and enjoy themselves."

"Well," Rachel said, settling herself next to Quinn again, "There's still no harm in a healthy competitive attitude."

While she might have questioned that, the same elderly lady from before was on stage, and she appeared to be looking directly at Rachel as the song she was singing was announced.

"From the popular musical "Wicked", we're going to hear_ Defying Gravity_".

The old lady smirked. Quinn sighed. Rachel's lips curled as she muttered, "She's going down."

xxx

"I can't believe we got kicked out."

Walking slowly through the darkness of the parking lot, Quinn replied thoughtfully, "Well you _might_ have got away with singing Dirrty by Christina Aguilera at a church karaoke night. I think it was the choreography that really offended them."

Looking down at her blouse, now slightly ripped, Rachel pouted, and Quinn couldn't help but laugh, "If it's any consolation, I liked it."

Rachel smiled, "That's a good consolation prize." as they stopped by the taller girl's car, she looked up at her sheepishly, "I guess I ruined your surprise."

Quinn shrugged, "Well, a little, but I like watching you sing. And dance like _that_." her eyes widened as if she realised what she'd just said and she looked away embarrassed. "_Anyway_," she continued, "What do you want to do now? I can take you home or...we could get something to eat."

"Wait," Rachel said, "I believe you have something to tell me?"

Quinn looked around at the parking lot, badly lit and deserted, "Well this seems kind of anti-climactic now."

"It doesn't matter."

"Um, okay," Quinn leaned back against the car, biting her thumb nail nervously, "So, um, I guess I'll tell you the story of what happened." As Rachel nodded in approval, she continued, "Yeah. So, I was dating Puck, and it kind of sucked, but I didn't have the guts to break up with him. And I used to spend a lot of time at his house watching him play video games and not drinking the wine coolers he brought me. Which got pretty boring, and one day trying to kill time I ended up on your MySpace page and watching your videos and I kind of realised... that they were really good. And I felt bad about all those times I commented on them saying those crappy things to you. So I started commenting on them saying nice things, you know."

She took a breath, and Rachel took her hand with a small smile, "Then after a little while we started talking. And you kind of surprised me." Rachel's eyebrows raised and she explained quickly, "I mean, not in a bad way, I thought you were okay before, but you kind of turned out to be a lot of fun to talk to, and you were funny, and nice as well, and it just felt like..." she took a deep breath, "Everything I was supposed to feel for Puck, I was feeling for you instead."

Rachel moved a little closer and Quinn continued more calmly, "But I didn't know how to tell you that. And no offence Rachel, but for someone who claims to be kind of psychic, you missed a lot of really obvious clues. Anyway, I guess you know the rest of the story." she shrugged, "So that's it." she gestured around herself with one arm, still holding Rachel's hand with the other, "Here's your big reveal, I'm your MySpace admirer."

Rachel looked up at her with a wide smile, "Quinn, however you did it, your "big reveal" was always going to be amazing, because it was you doing it."

"That was kind of cheesy."

Rachel sighed, "At any point tonight are you going to shut up and kiss me?"

"Did Rachel Berry just tell me I talk too much?"

"Quinn."

With a smirk, Quinn leaned down and pressed their lips together.

xxx

"I can't believe they told us we had to leave their _parking lot_, I suspect some deep-seated homophobia was at play on their part."

Quinn glanced across at her as she spun the wheel of the car to turn on to the road, "Or they just don't like teenagers making out in front of their community centre."

Rachel was silent, and Quinn could almost see the letter of complaint being written in her head.

"Where do you want to go, Rach? I can take you home."

"I don't really want to, just yet, if that's okay? I'm not sure what else there is to do in Lima on a Saturday night though. I would usually be retaining my Berry family Rock Band championship title right now."

Quinn laughed, wondering how she could ever have disliked this girl, "Well as much fun as that sounds, we could hang out at my house, for a while?"

Rachel looked across at her, eyebrows raised, but just said "That sounds nice."

xxx

"Ooh." Rachel said, standing at the edge of Quinn's room, "You have a dimmer switch." She played with it, and they went from standing in bright light to complete darkness several times, before Quinn tugged her hand away and left them in shadows. Quinn looked down at their hands, still linked, in surprise, and stared at the lines of Rachel's fingers clutched between her own.

"Quinn," Rachel said, but the other girl didn't look up, just gripped her tighter, and took a deep breath, "We can go downstairs and watch TV, if you like. We don't have to stay up here."

She seemed unable to look at Rachel, but she shook her head, "It's Saturday, my mom likes to get drunk and watch Saved by the Bell. It's probably best to stay out of her way."

Rachel gave a sympathetic smile, "That sounds horrific." so they stood in the half-darkness a little longer, as Quinn tried to gather her nerves.

"Quinn," Rachel said, and placed a gentle hand under her chin to make her look up at her, "It's okay." She leaned up to press a kiss to her lips, and drew back when Quinn laughed.

"I told you I'm a coward."

Rachel rolled her eyes and disentangled her hand from Quinn's to place it on her waist, "So don't be," she said simply, and kissed her harder, smiling as Quinn sighed into her mouth and her fingers curled around the edge of her shirt. She felt her relax against her, pulling her closer and her tongue pushing into her mouth, and she brought a hand up to trace along her jaw and nestle in her hair, scratching gently at the back of her neck.

Quinn gasped and drew back, her face still so close Rachel could feel her breath on her cheek. "Don't be a coward?" she said, "Okay." and Rachel felt the words on her skin, even as hands were tugging at her hips to spin her round and push her back towards the bed. She grinned and stood on her tiptoes to kiss her again, laughing when it made Quinn stumble and stop. She pulled her back and they sat almost chastely next to each other against the headboard, Quinn's hands on her waist and Rachel's cupping her face as they kissed, so Rachel squeaked in surprise when she was pushed back to lie on the bed, Quinn above her looking just as shocked.

"Who's brave now?" she asked, reaching up to trace a finger across Quinn's cheek.

Quinn shrugged with mock bravado, "You make it easy."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, "Are you calling me easy?"

Even as she said it though, Quinn's lips were at her neck, her teeth grazing the skin gently and she was too distracted to demand an answer. She tugged the cardigan from Quinn's shoulders and the other girl shrugged it off, leaning back down to nip at the underside of her jaw. Slowly, she urged her back up to kiss her again, and they lay for several minutes, their hands locked at the others sides even as they were itching to move. Eventually Rachel slid a leg between Quinn's thighs, and couldn't help but smile as her hips jumped of their own accord. The cheerleader's hands moved beneath her shirt, and Quinn drew back and took a shaky breath, looking at Rachel for permission. Rachel nodded and lifted her arms as her shirt was slipped over her head, leaving her in her bra beneath Quinn, the other girl's dark eyes sliding down her torso.

"You're so pretty." she said breathlessly, and Rachel blushed and leant up on her elbows to kiss her, and between them Quinn's hands trailed up her stomach to toy briefly at the underside of her breast before running a thumb over her nipple, hardened beneath the material. As Rachel gasped she seemed to gain confidence, massaging her breast as her teeth pulled at her bottom lip.

Even as she wasn't sure when Quinn's shirt and jeans or her own skirt disappeared, she was minutely aware of Quinn's fingers skating across her stomach, of her hips keening upwards to collide with Quinn's pushing her back into the bed, of Quinn trailing hot kisses across her chest, of Quinn smiling against her as she gasped and moaned.

Resting her chin on Rachel's stomach, she looked up at her, and eyes half closed, Rachel looked back, reaching down to tangle her fingers with Quinn's, her heart thudding in her chest, keenly sensitive to how _close_ Quinn was to her arousal.

"Okay?" Quinn asked. Her voice tingled against Rachel's damp skin, but all she could do was nod and watch as Quinn moved downwards with butterfly kisses, her tongue and teeth tracing the curve of her hip, stopping at the edge of her underwear. For one long second she seemed lost in the image of Rachel's skin beneath her, and Rachel waited, mouth dry, until Quinn pulled the last of her clothing away and dropped it to the floor, leaving Rachel panting and naked beneath her.

She moved up to kiss her, her hand lingering on Rachel's thigh, tracing light circles there. Finally, impatiently, and without taking her lips from Quinn's, Rachel tugged at her hand to move it where she wanted, and Quinn stroked her fingers through the wetness she found. Rachel gasped and her hips bucked upwards as Quinn found her clit, remembering vaguely that she was sure music was supposed to be playing right now, and there was going to be flowers and incense, but it didn't seem worth stopping Quinn to tell her as one finger slipped inside her. Her hips rocked and she gave a strangled groan, Quinn's mouth on her neck as her hand began to move.

She twisted around to capture Quinn's lips, grasping at the back of her neck and pushing her tongue into her mouth, moaning as Quinn's fingers curled inside her. Quinn grinned into the kiss and murmured something that sounded like "eager", before moving down her body, nipping at the underside of her breasts and her stomach, kissing her hips and the inside of her thighs and stilling her fingers to stroke her tongue against her clit.

Rachel groaned slightly in frustration, and a heartbeat later couldn't stop herself from moaning loudly as Quinn's began to move inside her again, and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Sorry," she breathed through her fingers.

Quinn hummed a response against her clit, and Rachel's hips bucked in response, "But your mom - "

Barely moving, Quinn replied, "She wears headphones to watch, she really loves Zack Morris."

"Okay," Rachel half moaned, as her hips strained downwards, "That's okay then - _God_." Quinn chose to interrupt her by inserting another finger, and judging by the laugh she felt (sending another rush of pleasure through her) had decided it was an effective way to shut her up. She went past the point of coherent thought then though, as Quinn's fingers sped up, her tongue swirling around her clit and her hand found grip in the other girl's hair, thrusting hopelessly as the pleasure built steadily within her.

Her hips bucking relentlessly, she attempted to gasp out "Quinn, please", it emerged as a more incoherent garble of noises, but Quinn appeared to understand anyway, because her fingers curled and her tongue flicked across her clit quickly, and finally Rachel's body tensed, her back arched, and as she came she moaned Quinn's name.

Kissing her way back up her body, Quinn grinned as Rachel opened her eyes with a slow smile. "Brave enough for you?" she asked with a smirk, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Not too bad," she answered, "But I think now it's my turn to be brave." and kissed her, her fingertips trailing down her stomach.

xxx

The next morning, sunlight filtering through the curtains, Quinn opened her eyes slowly to find Rachel staring intently at her.

"Hi." Rachel said brightly.

"Hmm," Quinn rubbed her eyes blearily, "What time is it? Why are you watching me sleep?"

"It's 8AM, I normally get up at 7 on a Sunday."

Quinn gave a huge yawn, burying her face in her pillow and throwing an arm around Rachel, "Go back to sleep, Rach." she said, her voice muffled.

"Do you want to take a picture of us for my official website today?"

Quinn frowned. It was 8AM on a Sunday. She was having a harder time believing that Rachel wanted to have this conversation _now_ than the fact she had an official website or that she wanted to take a picture of them for it. She snuggled closer to the other girl, her head on her chest, and murmured "Has anyone ever told you that you're insane?"

"Yes," Rachel sounded both wide awake and unhappy, "Almost everyone I know."

Sighing, Quinn propped herself up on one elbow to look down at the other girl, "Well I kind of like it." she gave a sleepy smile, "Just not at 8AM on a Sunday morning."

Rachel smiled, "Okay then."

With some degree of relief, Quinn lay back down and pushed her face into Rachel's neck, kissing it quickly but already halfway asleep again. Rachel put her arm around her, but she had no intention of sleeping. She had lots of plans to make after all, first a video dedication to Quinn to thank her for her kind comments (and actions, although that probably wouldn't go in the video), followed by a duet, then there would be their collaborations in Glee club to plan of course.

"Rachel," Quinn said, sounding like she wasn't awake at all, "Stop planning musical numbers and go back to sleep."

Rachel lay still for approximately thirty seconds, before her face lit up suddenly with an idea. Hopping out of bed, she announced she was going for a shower, sweeping up her bag as she went.

Re-entering the room twenty minutes later, freshly showered and grinning slyly to herself, Quinn was sitting up in bed frowning at her phone.

"What's the matter?" she asked as nonchalantly as possible.

"I got a text from an anonymous number," Quinn said, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?"

Rachel was the picture of innocence, "A text? From an anonymous number? I know nothing of the sort. Why, what does it say?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, "You know what it says."

"I do not."

"Fine." Quinn said, attempting to sound exasperated even as she couldn't hold back a smile at Rachel's hopeless over-acting, "It says _You're awesome, and a really good singer._"

"Well," Rachel said, "I wonder who sent that."

"Is this the beginning of an insane plan?"

"Quinn," Rachel said, crossing the room to kneel on the bed next to her and kiss her softly, "Yes it is."

Quinn watched as Rachel bounced happily out of the room, and then, with a grin, followed her.


	11. Chapter 11  Epilogue

**Hi! So, wow, this is undeniably nerve-wracking for me. I finished this story quite a while ago, about two months or so, and I didn't intend to add to it. Since then though more than one person has said to me that that they were a bit disappointed with how it ended, and honestly, I was a bit disappointed too. So officially, this is an epilogue, to try and make up for that. If you liked the ending then, and hoped everything would stay the same forever, you can either not read this, or read it and just accept it as an extra to the actual story. If you hated the original ending though, and hoped bad things would happen to me after you read it, then I hope this will make you feel better about it.**

**This chapter goes with thanks to kissingthebee, who both encouraged me to write it and read it for me to make sure it didn't _completely _suck. Hope you enjoy this :)**

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The following weeks passed in a blur of sending coy grins across classrooms in school and spending as much time together as possible out of it, of Santana miming throwing up and Puck informing them it was "totally hot" when they so much as held hands. The Glee club was briefly divided by the release of a new Harry Potter movie, split into two camps of those who thought "magic is really lame and fictional" and those decrying the others as uneducated muggles. Rachel performed "I Kissed a Girl" for everyone one day, and a short war over whether Mr Schue was homophobic ensued when he informed her it wasn't entirely appropriate, much to Quinn's continued embarrassment. For the most part though, Rachel and Quinn surprised even themselves by how easily their tentative friendship transformed into a relationship - without being asked Quinn started acquiring memorabilia when a royal wedding was announced, and Rachel's presence at football games, cheering for Quinn as she cheered, was nothing short of adorable.

Soon though it was the week leading up to Sectionals, and, as ever, they seemed to be woefully under prepared, having spent much of their time up to that point singing their emotions rather than anything that could really be used in a competition. With only a few rehearsals left to go then, the Glee club found themselves nervously anticipating the announcement of what they would be singing, Rachel clutching several pages of sheet music and lists of potential musical numbers, and each of them quietly hoping that this would be their turn to shine with a solo.

When Mr Schue finally arrived (ten minutes late, Rachel noted), the room fell quiet, but it was nothing compared to the deathly hush that followed the announcement that Quinn and Sam would be performing a duet, and Santana a solo at Sectionals. Santana and Sam were grinning, but Quinn's eyes were on Rachel, who seemed to be staring fixedly at the wall in front of her as if she had suddenly found something fascinating in the chipped paintwork.

"Rach..." Quinn said, "Are you okay?"

Rachel's mouth hung open as she turned slowly towards her girlfriend, she closed it once or twice, seemingly at a loss for words, before managing to burst out, "Of course I'm okay!" at speed, "Why on earth wouldn't I be? Although I must comment, Quinn, that we, along with Sam, I suppose, will have to begin practising immediately if we are to retain our title next week."

The Glee club looked at Rachel. Rachel looked at Quinn.

"She's finally cracked." Puck said.

"Rachel, you know we have to give everyone a chance - I think Quinn and Sam's voices will sound awesome together, and Santana really proved herself with that solo she sang for Brittany." Mr Schuester tried, by now well versed in the signs of an oncoming diva tantrum.

"Mr _Schue_," Rachel admonished, "I feel it would be rather remiss of you to suggest I am anything less than completely supportive of my girlfriend. If I am to be relegated to swaying in the background then I assure you the audience will be blown away by how dedicated I am to swaying."

Quinn took her hand and smiled, "Thanks Rach, that really means a lot."

Rachel looked like she was going to pass out.

xxx

"So, why MySpace? Isn't that a little...I don't know, 2005?"

Trying to do her homework with Kurt and Mercedes in the library, Quinn frowned across the table at him. "What?"

Kurt put his pen down on the notebook open in front of him, the main contents of which seemed to be drawings of hearts and the words "Mr Kurt Timberlake", "If you're going to win over a girl you claimed to hate for several years, why use MySpace? At the very least, if you were so set on the internet thing, it could have been Facebook."

Quinn looked at Mercedes, who seemed just as curious, and then back at him, "I don't know, Rachel likes MySpace. And I really don't see how getting together over Facebook would work at all. Why do you care?"

"He's just mad because "school's biggest bitch and school's biggest loser get together" is a good scandal, but "school's biggest bitch and biggest loser get together over MySpace" automatically makes it lame." Mercedes explained.

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Would you not call her a loser in front of me? Or not at all, actually."

Soon the inevitable occurred, and Rachel appeared in the library, ignoring stern looks from the librarian, holding a towering pile of music books, and tottered towards the table they were sitting at. Quinn got up quickly to help her, while Kurt and Mercedes barely raised their eyes from their books.

"Hey Rach," Quinn said, putting a pile of books down as Rachel smiled gratefully at her, "I thought you were boycotting the library since they won't let you record audio books for them?"

"Well, although McKinley's blind student is still missing out on hearing my musical rendition of "The Lovely Bones", I've decided to temporarily forgo my boycott in order to help you decide which song you'd like to perform at Sectionals, so we can begin rehearsing immediately. What's your opinion on t.A.T.u.?"

"Wow," Quinn chewed her bottom lip nervously, "I thought you'd be mad about this."

"It's my duty as your girlfriend, and as Glee club captain, to support you! Not to mention helping you will be good practice in case I'm ever forced to live out my dreams through my children."

"Yeah, well..." she glanced back at Kurt and Mercedes, who seemed utterly uninterested in what they were talking about, and lowered her voice, "I don't know if I'm going to go through with it. I'm thinking about telling Mr Schue to get someone else to do the duet."

To her credit, Rachel didn't immediately start thinking of solos she could sing herself. "What? Why?"

Quinn shrugged, "I don't think I can do it - I mean last time I was on stage my water broke, I've never sang the lead in front of so many people... and I've never sang with Sam at all, to be honest he kind of grosses me out."

Rachel took her hand gently, still balancing sheet music in her other, "Regardless, it's your opportunity to shine - I think this is just nerves."

"I don't know. Maybe a different competition, but not this one."

xxx

"Psst."

Standing at her locker talking to Brittany, Santana looked around in confusion. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"It sounded like someone trying to get my attention with a method they stole from a cartoon." she looked around again, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, shrugged, "Anyway, so like I was saying - at best epilogues are just an attempt to drag out the story for a little longer and disguise the crappy ending, they're never - "

"PSST."

Santana sighed, "Why do I feel like my day's about to take a turn for the tedious?"

She turned around again to find Rachel's face peering out at her from the janitor's closet. She looked her up and down slowly, "I seriously hope you're not trying to lure me in there with you, Berry."

Brittany looked over Santana's shoulder and smiled brightly, "Hey Rachel, are you a janitor now?"

"No," Rachel whispered, "I need your advice."

"Oh," Brittany nodded in understanding, "So you're in the janitor's closet because you need to clean up your problems."

"Something like that... I need to hurry in case Quinn comes by, you can't let her know what I'm about to ask you."

Santana looked at Brittany, "Or we could go away, and then we wouldn't have to know either."

Brittany hit her arm gently, and, rolling her eyes but clearly admonished, Santana turned back to Rachel, "Fine. What's going wrong with Pinky and the Brain?"

Rachel looked around furtively, before explaining (having already forgotten she was supposed to be whispering), "I'm not sure how to handle this situation with Quinn, she wants to tell Mr Schue she can't do the duet - and if she drops out the duty would clearly fall to me. On one hand I want to show her she would be excellent, but on the other, my career ambitions obviously dictate I should ensure I can show my talent as often as possible as well as guarantee victory for the club."

Santana rolled her eyes, "Okay let me start off by mentioning that you're insane. Second, if this is the kind of dumb problems you normally have, definitely do not make a habit of coming to me and Britt for advice. Thirdly, you're an idiot. Quinn got _one_ solo that you didn't - that's not exactly going to ruin your career, is it? The fact you're probably going to be committed by the time you're 21 is a much bigger issue there."

"So you're saying I should make sure she performs?"

"Sometimes you've got to step back and have a bit of loyalty for your girl, Berry, it's not all about you. Thank God."

Rachel was mercifully silent, and Santana and Brittany took the opportunity to make their escape, but before they did Santana looked back, and called over her shoulder, "Oh, and Streisand? Don't worry about winning either," she smirked at the blonde cheerleader next to her, "Me and B have definitely got this." Rachel barely heard her however - Santana was right, she'd let Quinn down, and she'd make sure she made it up to her.

xxx

"I don't know," Finn said, tossing a football to Puck on the other side of the room, the rest of the Glee club gathered round, "They really seem to like each other. I think they'll last."

Santana snorted, "Please. If by the time we're all thirty, Rachel Berry is not living alone with seven cats, I will personally give you all $100."

"I'm pretty sure Quinn will be living in the suburbs with a pretty-boy husband and a bunch of kids," Artie said, "The evidence is all there - just look at her past boyfriends." Puck threw the football at his head.

Standing in the doorway, Rachel folder her arms and pursed her lips, "Are you all taking bets on how long Quinn and I will stay together for again? I told you that was particularly unkind."

"I said you wouldn't break up!" Finn exclaimed, "I can totally see it - ten years from now you'll be on Broadway, Quinn will...I don't know...read a lot and listen to Swedish indie singers, and you'll be together!"

"Quinn does love Lykke Li," Rachel said thoughtfully, "Thank you, anyway, Finn. As for the rest of you, perhaps think more on the longevity of your own relationships, given that the majority of you are currently single."

There was a general groaning and a chorus of "shut up, Berry". Rachel smiled, "Well, now I have your attention, I have something I'd like to say - "

"You got voted "most likely to become a serial killer" and you asked us all here to get a head start?"

Rachel sighed, "I will ignore your witty quips, Santana, since I have a favour to ask of you all."

As Rachel explained her plan, the Glee club (minus Quinn) collectively recoiled. There was nothing worse than being unwittingly involved in a Rachel Berry scheme.

xxx

Rachel was unusually inattentive in history class the next day, barely aware of what was going on around her - although she still managed to correct Finn's spelling, Santana went completely unreprimanded for trying to distract the teacher from setting any homework ("So, couldn't World War II have been avoided if Abraham Lincoln just like...shot Hitler? And I thought Nazis were made up, like unicorns and feminists.") She couldn't concentrate on anything except her plan to build Quinn's confidence in her singing ability, which was to commence as soon as the bell rang. The Glee club had been surprisingly compliant after she bought them all hot dogs, though she wasn't sure how well they'd carry through with it - the collective agreement had been that she was "batshit insane", and they had been distracted frequently by the need to make crude jokes centred around sausages.

The bell rang, interrupting their teacher's flustered attempt to explain that the Cold War wasn't named such because it's cold in Russia, and Rachel looked at Finn and nodded.

He crossed the room to approach Quinn, busy putting her books away, "Hi, Quinn." he said in a voice that suggested he'd memorised everything he was about to say (he had, it was written on his hand), "I found this note on the floor. It is addressed to you." he handed her a piece of paper, which she opened, frowning suspiciously.

"This says to come to the auditorium after school. Did Rach put you up to this?"

Finn turned to look at Rachel helplessly, and she shook her head furiously. "No." he said, "I have to go now. I have to...uh...help Sam. With his, um, pokemon. Yeah."

As he left, high-fiving Sam on an acting job well done, Quinn crossed the room to join to her girlfriend. "What are you planning?"

"Planning?" Rachel looked shocked, "I'm not planning anything Quinn, why would you think I am?"

"This note may not be written on your stationary, but I'm pretty sure no one else would write "Ms Fabray, I formally request your presence in the McKinley High auditorium after school.""

"I assure you, Quinn, I had nothing to do with this escapade."

Quinn pursed her lips, "If you say so."

xxx

They walked to their next class together, discussing what exactly Puck and Lauren Zises could be doing with each other every day after school (most people seemed to think it was shoplifting Big Macs, but they thought it might be more than that). They stopped briefly at Quinn's locker, and while the cheerleader retrieved her books Rachel busied herself making sure her relationship calendar was up to date.

"Okay," Quinn said, with a smile, holding out her hand for Rachel to take, "Ready to go?"

"Yes," Rachel replied, peering over Quinn's shoulder into her locker, "Are you sure you didn't see anything unusual in there? For example in between your math text book and the pamphlet Miss Pillsbury gave you about dating highly-strung bisexual Jewish girls?"

Quinn raised one eyebrow and turned back to look, "What's this? A CD?"

"I have no idea, Quinn, I suppose it might be."

With a sigh Quinn put the case in her bag, "Well, it says 'play in the auditorium', on it. I'm sure this is completely innocent and not part of an insane scheme on your part. You want to go to class?"

Rachel was tempted to be offended by that statement, but she was too pleased when the other girl pulled her in to kiss her on the forehead to pay much attention.

xxx

Gym class typically meant any Cheerios present would disappear for cheerleading practice, while the rest of the students would be subjected to the whims of an eternally sadistic gym teacher, who refused to believe that a teenager could get enough exercise from a daily session on an elliptical, and instead felt the need to subject them to twice weekly hour long sessions of such endlessly pointless activities like climbing ropes and dodgeball. These activities occurred on such a regular basis that Rachel had the strong suspicion that their teacher didn't know how to play any other sports, or at the very least learned everything he knew about teaching gym class from made-for-TV movies.

Quinn left the other girl behind then, a familiar refrain of "the throat muscles need to be exercised just as much as any others!" ringing in her ears, simultaneously grateful she didn't have to suffer those excuses for lessons, and pitying her girlfriend that she did (although she was sure the gym teacher always had a worse time of it - he paled whenever Rachel entered the room). Since Sue Sylvester couldn't always be there for the Cheerios practices (something to do with time zones and China), it was often left to her to run things - which meant she typically spent the period arguing with Santana about which routines they should do and dealing with the cheerleaders too scared to tell Sue they had become fat, pregnant or male.

Making her way out on to the football field today however, she was surprised to see Santana, unusually on time for class, leaning against the preposterously large trophy they'd won her first year as captain. Nearby Brittany seemed to be practising one of their more complicated routines.

"What's going on? You know Coach will kill you if she sees you've got that out here."

Santana shrugged, buffing her nails on her shirt, "We'll have it back in the trophy room by the time she gets back from that UN conference."

"Okay, so why do you have it here? Hoping you can look at your reflection in it?"

"Nah, Berry bought us hotdogs and paid us $20 to haul it out here and remind you how you helped us win. Or something."

"_San_," Brittany hissed, stopping what she was doing and coming closer to join the conversation, "You weren't supposed to tell her who it was."

"Oh, you're right," Santana nodded solemnly and turned back to Quinn, "An anonymous oompa-loompa bought us hotdogs and paid us $20 to haul it out here."

Brittany smiled, "That's better."

Quinn stared at them in confusion, "To remind me of winning? At Nationals? Does she think I forgot or something?"

They both shrugged, clearly not interested at all in the motivations behind Rachel's plan.

"Come on, she has to have told you guys something? What's she planning?"

Santana smiled, "I _could_ tell you, but then I wouldn't get to bask in having knowledge you don't for the next hour. Yeah, I think I'll stick with that."

Quinn sighed, "Britt?"

The other girl shrugged, "I don't get to know things that other people don't very often."

"Great." Quinn said, "Hope you guys are gonna enjoy running laps all period."

xxx

Puck cornered her as she was leaving the locker room after getting changed. She sighed, "Puckerman, I have to go meet Rach in the auditorium. I don't really have time to hear about you shooting Japanese alien zombie cowboy girls on the Playstation 4 or whatever."

Past the point where he bothered to try and correct her knowledge of video games, he offered her his arm, "I'll walk you." She looked up at him with a frown, sure he'd never been this chivalrous while they were actually dating, but figured she didn't have anything to lose - he was pretty good at elbowing freshmen out of the way when they got too close. "So, uh, we're friends right, Quinn?" he asked, "I mean I know we broke up, and now you're dating Berry and stuff, and every time I think about that I get kind of confused and horny, but we're still buds, aren't we?"

She was beginning to wonder if this was another part of Rachel's plan, "Uh...sure...I guess."

He seemed genuinely pleased, and she had to admit she was slightly touched. "Cool. But you know, if you hurt Berry or whatever, I'm gonna have to slash your tires. I gotta look out for my fellow Jews, I'm pretty sure it's one of the ten commandments. Or it's in a Billy Joel song. It's sacred, anyway."

"Don't you spend most of your time either ignoring her or trying to make out with her?"

"Well yeah, but that doesn't mean I don't like her. She's kind of like the pet hamster I had when I was a kid that my mom had to look after because I got bored when I realised it couldn't fly. I never looked twice at the dumb thing, but I was still totally bummed when my sister tried to dress it up like it was in Slipknot and it suffocated."

Quinn was endlessly surprised by his ability to be sweet in a horrible sort of way, "Okay then. Well, I'm not going to hurt her."

"Awesome," Puck said cheerfully, as they reached the doors of the auditorium. "Anyway, I have to give you this." He handed her a sheet of paper and she looked down at it in confusion.

"Lyrics for "Time of My Life"? Let me guess, this is another part of Rachel's plan?"

He looked at his bare wrist, "Would you look at the time? I gotta go spit at cats." he patted her on the shoulder affectionately, "Later, bro."

She watched him go, and then looked at the doors of the auditorium in trepidation of what she was about to find inside.

xxx

The room was almost dark, only the stage dimly lit, when Quinn entered. "Rach?" she called out, squinting past the empty seats, "If you don't come out I'm going to use that rape whistle you made me buy..." There was the definite sound of someone moving near the stage, but no one emerged, so, sighing, Quinn made her way down the stairs.

As she got closer, she realised there was a CD player on the stage that had been hidden in shadows before. The fact it could be hidden from anyone within a mile radius was slightly surprising given how thoroughly it had been bedazzled - Rachel was consistently unsubtle, you had to give her that.

"Well," Quinn said out loud to the empty room, "I guess I'm supposed to play this CD." There was a noise from the wings that sounded suspiciously like someone trying to muffle giggling, and she rolled her eyes with a chuckle, rummaging in her bag for the disk and setting it to play.

Music filled the room, and Quinn heard Rachel before she saw her, blinded slightly by the lights that suddenly illuminated the stage.

"Now, I've had the time of my life," Rachel sang, and beckoned the other girl across the stage to stand next to her in the light, grasping her hand, "No, I've never felt like this before." Her girlfriend's voice filling the room, Quinn couldn't help grinning. "Yes, I swear, it's the truth," Rachel squeezed her hand, "And I owe it all to you."

They looked at each other.

Rachel's smile dropped in disappointment and she crossed her arms over her chest, "Quinn, you missed your cue."

Suddenly jolted out of being enchanted with the other girl's voice into apparently being reprimanded, Quinn was confused, "What? My cue?"

"Yes, your cue! I even sang the male part for you!"

"_What?_ Rach, just giving me a CD and some lyrics doesn't mean I'm going to be able to sing something right away."

Rachel bit her lip in thought, "Now you mention it, that does seem slightly ridiculous." she pouted, "I just wanted us to sing together to show you how well you could do it."

"So that was what this whole plan was for?"

"Well, yes, the rest of it was just...kind of for fun, you know? I wanted to do something for you the way you did for me so I asked Finn and Puck to help, and Brittany and Santana to get the trophy to remind you you're already a performer and a good one too, and I was so distracted someone managed to steal $20 from my purse without me even noticing - " she paused for breath, looking miserable, "I'm sorry, it was a silly idea. I just wanted to show you that you could do it, and not let you down so soon in our relationship."

"Okay," Quinn said slowly, "Let me see if I understand - you spent the day getting our friends to give me stuff to help me sing a song, pretending you had nothing to do with it, so you could show me I should sing the duet at Sectionals?"

Rachel nodded.

"And you did it anonymously, because...?"

Rachel shrugged, "It seemed appropriate?"

Quinn shook her head incredulously, pulling the other girl closer to wrap her arms around her, "That is such an incredibly bizarre plan I'm actually surprised that even you thought of it." she kissed her quickly, a small smile forming on the other girl's face, "But it was very sweet. In a convoluted sort of way."

"Does this mean you're going to do the duet?"

She looked down at Rachel, smiling hopefully up at her, "I don't know, Rach, I don't think...I don't know if I'm ready for it."

Rachel's arms tightened around her waist, "You are, and as you know, my opinion is likely the most expert you'll receive on the subject. Trust me on this."

Quinn looked dubious, "I suppose..."

Her eyebrows raised, Rachel stepped back slightly, "Yes, you should trust me. I think given that I trusted an anonymous enquirer on my MySpace page, and I trusted you when you seemed to want a friendship with me - despite all previous evidence to the contrary - and even now I'm _trusting_ that it's possible, and not just an incredibly realistic dream, that dorky Rachel Berry who wears animal print sweaters and once wrote a letter to John Travolta asking him to star in a remake of Grease with her, is dating the head cheerleader and the hottest girl in school, I feel you should trust me on this one, relatively small, issue."

Managing a small smile, Quinn exhaled slowly, "I guess I can do that."

Rachel beamed and clapped her hands together, "Excellent - we can begin rehearsing immediately!"

Quinn watched as the other girl went to reset the CD player, and this time, she couldn't stop the smile from breaking out.

xxx

They stood together behind the curtains, waiting for their entrance at Sectionals, Sam nearby talking to Finn. Quinn pulled nervously at her clothes, "Do I look okay? I feel like I look weird. Do I look weird? Is this dress too short?"

Rachel put a calming hand on her arm, "You look lovely, Quinn."

The other girl managed to stop panicking for long enough to blush, "Thanks. You should go, you have to go on too. You don't want anyone to miss out on a second of Rachel Berry swaying."

Rachel rolled her eyes, "I know you're being sarcastic, but I'm going to accept that as a compliment regardless." She leaned up to kiss the other girl on the cheek quickly, "You'll be amazing, I know."

She turned to leave, beckoning Finn to follow, when Quinn called after her, "Oh, hey, Rach." She turned, Finn pausing impatiently, looking at his watch. "You look beautiful." Quinn said, "Definitely the hottest girl in school."

Rachel grinned, and she was still grinning as she took her place on stage.

xxx

A week later, after a decisive draw at Sectionals (Rachel had assured her they hadn't won due to anti-discrimination laws, not because of anything they'd done wrong), Quinn arrived at her girlfriend's house at midday, clutching vegan cupcakes she'd probably be scolded for bringing ("you are not required to buy my love with sweet treats, although they are very much appreciated"). Rachel opened the door to her with a flying hug, and they retreated upstairs quickly, since Quinn was anxious to avoid any awkward conversations with her fathers for as long as possible.

"Come here," Quinn said, settling herself at Rachel's desk and patting her lap, "I want to show you something."

Rachel approached dubiously, but sat on the other girl's knee and put her arm around her shoulders readily enough, "I thought we were going to watch a movie?"

"We are," Quinn said, distracted as she opened the laptop and brought up MySpace.

Rachel looked at the page. "Why have you logged me on to MySpace? You're putting us behind schedule on - " she paused, stared uncomprehendingly at the screen, blinked and rubbed her eyes, "Does that say I have thirteen new friend requests?"

Quinn grinned, "Yep."

Tentatively, Rachel clicked, "Everyone in Glee has joined MySpace?"

"Yeah," if possible, Quinn's smile only got wider, "Everyone in Glee, along with Mr Schue and ... Karofsky, for some reason. I mean, Puck's already figured out how to change the background on Finn's page to naked guys, and I don't know what Mr Schue's doing on there, but Mike has a lot of cool dancing videos. Kurt's getting a lot of anonymous messages from whoever, and Brittany just posts about her cat, who I think needs a support group or - "

"Wait," Rachel interrupted, having managed to click on to a different page, "What's this?"

"Oh - that's the best part."

Rachel scrolled down the page with a small frown, "'New Directions - McKinley High Glee Club'" she read, "You made a MySpace page for the Glee club?"

"Yeah," Quinn said, suddenly slightly nervous, "Do you like it?"

Turning to look at her finally, Rachel smiled widely, "Of _course_ I like it, Quinn. You'll obviously have to give me administrative rights and - is there a way to update everyone by text message when I post a news bulletin?" she pulled the other girl towards her to kiss her quickly.

"It was kind of a gift," Quinn said with a slight blush, "For helping me out with Sectionals and stuff."

"That was just...being a good girlfriend, but _this_ - this is being an excellent girlfriend. I mean I'd considered doing this myself of course, but with only myself as a member it would be something of a pointless exercise..." She gasped suddenly, "There's _music_ there too? How did you do that?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, "I know you make secret recordings of every performance, Rach, and Puck's girlfriend helps you. Everyone knows that. And Lauren Zises will do almost anything for a cheeseburger and a flash of Puck's abs, so..." Holding the other girl closer, Rachel pressed play on the first song on the page.

"Just a small town girl," Finn's voice rang out, "Livin' in a lonely world."

"Not so lonely anymore." Rachel said. Quinn grinned, and kissed her.


End file.
